


Mitchsen Oneshots

by UnholyHelbig



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Prompt Fic, Request Meme, Smut, Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:00:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyHelbig/pseuds/UnholyHelbig
Summary: This is a collection of prompts that I've been given about Mitchsen on Tumblr. If you want to request something, go ahead and hit up the comments on one of these chapters!





	1. Lightning

**The sky carried**  a dark edge to it when clouds loomed in the distance. Almost as if the grey color was painted on in thinly lined streaks- the artist giving no mercy as watercolor splashed close to a solid blue gradient.

"We have a 10-46 by old mills road." The voice was static filled and frantic against the sound of large sheets of rain clashing with every inch of the vehicle, it's tires cautious as puddles collected towards the edges of paths less taken. "Unit Eight, what's your 10-20?"

"Unit Eight responding," Aubrey grasped onto the small radio that was mainly reserved for truckers around the area. "Approximately three minutes."

The blonde's heart was almost pounding out of her chest. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. Adrenaline wasn't far off in her profession, but something about the impending night filled with storm surges and crashed vehicles was enough to counteract any method the young paramedic tried to instill within herself.

"10-4."

Pure silence filled the cab once more as the blonde curled her fingers around the hem of her pants, fingers numb as she swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. It wasn't often when the thick feeling of fear filled her, but something about this call seemed off. It was urgent, but that's all they knew.

"Do you think it's another accident?" Her counterpart asked, keeping crystal eyes on the road. One misstep would send them into a slick nightmare, the view barely visible through dark skies and bright headlights.

Aubrey studied the girl, the woman she had been training with for the past four years as a first responder. Her steely gaze was always so captivating and calming compared to the curly mess of auburn hair that seemed to fall perfectly over broad shoulders. She was always so docile, never showing fear or anger in any way. Chloe had more patience than anyone she had ever met, making her wonder why she chose to be a medic instead of a pediatrician, aside from the few years of school.

Chloe flicked the lights on, a deep hum filling the engine as the noise quickly cleared the highway, patrons who pulled over undoubtedly overcome with curiosity as to where the ambulance was heading.

"It has to be," Aubrey responded, steeling herself as they neared the scene. "It wouldn't kill Ash to give us a little more information."

Chloe chuckled softly, "No, I suppose not."

The ambulance came to a screeching halt along the edge of the rural highway, the corner meeting between farmland that was left untouched during the winter nights. Rain would soon turn to ice, and ice to snow- but for now, it was just a frigid hell that caught Aubrey's attention. That and the motorcycle laid gently on the edge of the highway.

Both girls glanced nervously at one another. They had seen motorcycle accidents before. They were never this calm- this forgiving. The bikes were usually totaled, 95% of the time its driver didn't make it to the hospital despite best efforts. It brought that same sour taste into her mouth as she pushed the door open, one hand grasping onto the medical kit while the other shielded her from the diagonal rainfall.

It was the type of rain that stung against your cheeks, making them numb and untouchable, Chloe rushing along the edge of the van as she grasped the makeshift plastic gurney. She glanced around, squinting as the coolness soaked through every inch of her clothing, despite the jacket that the rainfall dripped off of.

"What the hell?" Aubrey mumbled as her hair began to stick to her forehead, her boots making a cracking sound against the pavement. A large oak tree rested by the bike that was propped up, propped up with intention.

"Over here!" Chloe shouted as a crack of lightning flashed against the right edge of her face, her features determined as she started in a light sprint towards a shaded area, the darkness from the night air apparent as breath pushed in front of both girls.

The woman was pressing her back against the bark of the tree, her eyes clenched shut as a trembling hand wrapped around her stomach. The pain was evident on pale and cutting features. Aubrey couldn't see her eyes, but she could see the striped leather jacket by her side. It was cold enough to need four of them, and this tiny brunette was reduced to nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Ma'am," Aubrey dropped down to her knees next to the woman, careful not to touch her as the sloshing mud soaked through pants. Chloe did the same, not wasting time to reach for the girl's pulse. She placed two fingers easily on the stranger's wrist, taking notice of the bloodied knuckles as crimson rushed past pale skin.

"Pulse isn't strong, Bree."

"Ma'am, can you open your eyes for me?"

There was nothing at first, both girls screaming over the roar of picking up wind speeds. Aubrey's breath was picking up its pace as the girl's eyes shot open- they were an unrecognizable blue- something so sapphire and concrete. They were scared.

"What happened?" Chloe moved her gloved fingers to the woman's neck instead, she turned her head to the side, letting her feel around for a stronger pulse. She swallowed roughly, parting her lips.

There didn't seem to be anything physically wrong with her. Not that Aubrey could tell. They couldn't do much at this point, not seeing any physical lacerations or wounds that they could quickly patch up in order to get her to the nearest hospital.

"I-I don't know." She mumbled, voice smooth as it sent chills up Aubrey's spine. "I was riding home and there was this… this flash."

"Lightning?" The blonde questioned, trying to keep the girl in focus. "What's your name?"

"Yeah, yes." She panted, "Beca Mitchell."

The paramedic nodded, pulling a stethoscope from the kit by her side, she placed them in her ears, securing them before reaching under the hem of the black, water-soaked shirt. Beca pulled in a breath as the cool edge moved against her chest.

"I felt like I got hit… hard. Like football? Yeah, like getting hit by a really huge linebacker."

This woman talked a lot but in an endearing type of way. "Breath in for me."

"How do you feel now?" Chloe questioned, leaning back on one foot while the other stayed close to her chest, her hand resting lazily on it- once she realized that the woman wasn't in dire need to the sirens and lights just yet.

"Lightheaded, and there's this… this buzzing in my head. I feel drunk."

"Are you?" Aubrey asked, voice tight as she sniffed against the cold, pulling her touch away from the girl as she too leaned back.

"No! of course not. I just, couldn't drive anymore. It's like that lightning was close, right in front of my bike. I had never seen anything light up the sky that much- almost dominating."

"Alright," Aubrey let out a shaky breath, glancing back at the woman's bike. The rain didn't show any sign of letting up soon. Her eyes quickly darted back towards her partner. "Your pulse and breathing seem a little irregular. A panic attack maybe."

"It might have to do with the fact that you were struck by lightning." Chloe lifted her eyebrows trying to register the reaction Beca was giving off. It wasn't a calm one. She straightened herself up and parted her lips slightly, finger curling into the grass.

"I'm sorry what?" Beca's voice was higher than before. "Shouldn't I be dead?"

"Mm," Aubrey lifted her chin "Common misconception. But we are going to take you in to get your checked out, alright Beca? We don't know how much electricity you were really exposed to and the side effects are less than desirable."

The woman gulped but nodded absently her mind racing as the blonde next to her wrapped a hand around her mid-section, the other paramedic reaching for the medical kit and gurney that they brought along, trusting the woman to stand.

"This is fucking crazy," she mumbled as Aubrey helped her to the back of the large ambulance, another flash filling the velvet sky, all three women stopping in their tracks to watch the tear that the electric current created. Beca tensed in Aubrey's arms, clenching her jaw.

"Hey," the girl whispered soothingly "It's okay, alright? It'll be okay."


	2. Front Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchsen wartime fic? I used to not be the worst at writing wartime stuff, but I probably got a whole bunch of stuff wrong, because let's face it, my research abilities aren't the best.

**The scent**  of dirt was the first thing that hit Beca's senses. That and blood. It was such a distinct thing, it's metallic edge almost sweet as it overtook every inch of the small tent that she resided in. They said very plainly that blood could overtake any room and nothing about that statement had registered to the young doctor until now.

"Elevate the arm," She said gruffly, her voice nothing more than a sharp bark. "There's a tear in the brachial artery."

That very blood that was clouding her lungs was gushing past a nasty wound that wouldn't be easily handled. Nothing about this was easy- not the way they had taught her in a classroom instead of a sand-filled battlefield. This wasn't some random test anymore, this was the real deal and Beca had to act fast.

"Doctor Mitchell, what do you want us to do?" The young intern asked, crimson liquid soaking into her white tank-top as she panted herself, dirt close to matching her chocolate brown eyes. She had a look of determination on her face, one that made her look much older than she really was. She was searching for an answer, any answer.

"Legacy I need you to grab a pressure bandage and press it under the wound. If the blood flow doesn't taper than stick your fingers right below the artery, am I clear?"

"Doc,"

" _Am I clear_?"

There was a quick nod at the newer recruit did as she was told, a soldier squirming under her touch. The man was gritting his teeth in pain, being on the wrong side of an edge of shrapnel that was sent flying with a cloud of smoke. His breath was shaky, but he was composed.

"Is there an exit wound?" The smaller brunette asked as she began to tear fabric away from the area.

"No ma'am."

"So help me god, do not call me ma'am" A deep sigh escaped Beca as she quickly grasped the edge of her rubber glove and pulled it off sweat filled palms. She was struggling to get the attention of the fallen man, his eyes shaded and dark with pain as she placed her cool fingers under his chin, staring into olive green eyes. They were riddled with pain as she let out a breath.

"Alright, Cruz." She said, kneeling softly as she brushed the dirt coated hair from his eyes. "There's not much we can do for you on base, okay? We're going to airlift you to the nearest center but I need you to stay with me. Can you do that?"

He chuckled a soft sound that was weak and forced. "I've been through worse Shawshank. I think I can handle a little blood loss."

She nodded, struggling to smile as she stood, watching Emily stare down at her rusty fingers. They were shaking, her nerves getting the best of her. The wound had been patched up the best that they could, not even having basic morphine anywhere near the premises.

"Keep me posted, Legacy." Was all Beca said before she pushed past the deep burlap edges of the tent. The sun was almost as unforgiving as the barren nature of the desert that they had set up base in. A few tents and a little mess hall the only thing that shielded them from its unforgiving nature.

She squinted, lowering her aviator sunglasses down over midnight blue eyes. Her breath was short as combat boots molded against hot sand. She was used to it by now, but nothing about this job had ever been easy- not when her resolve was constantly being pulled in every separate direction.

The woman kept her head down and stance rigid as if not to be bothered before she pushed into her own tent, eyes not adjusting to the sudden change in brightness right away. The sound of a small osculating fan and warm push of air brought her back-back to a time when she would lounge on a front porch while letting the juices from a banana popsicle drip down her arm and off her elbow.

She looked around the tent, a bit of disappointment filling her to find that it was empty. The churning feeling in the pit of her stomach was growing by the second- mouth dry like the very ground she treaded on.

"you're cute when you worry, you know that right?"

The voice sent an icy chill down Beca's spine as she perked up, not wasting a second to the dry air as she turned around to face the blonde who kept her voice steady and chin lifted. Her hair was up in a tight bun, strands of golden color falling into grey eyes. She had stripped off her jacket, a white tank-top was dirtied with sweat and blood, a long gash at her waistline. It shouldn't worry Beca as much as it did, but she couldn't help the spike of anxiety.

"I'm not cute." She hissed, knowing that they carried this exchange wherever they went. It took everything in the shorter girl not to launch herself towards the older woman. To hold her and pull her close. If anything, the military had taught her self-control. "And you're bleeding."

"Ah, it comes with the territory." Aubrey waved her off, her dismissive nature not as concerning as it was before. "I assume you've seen the bulk of the damage."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, one that made Beca avert her gaze as Aubrey lowered herself onto their shared cot. They had pushed two of them together- laying out bedding to lessen the rod that split the mesh up the middle. It seemed to work for the two well.

"When I saw Smith, I assumed it was you." She cocked her head to the side, taking the gold-rimmed glasses from her gaze as she stuck them against the collar of her own green shirt, the dog tags that hung around her neck clanking near swollen metal. "Though I'm sorry to see her go."

"Did she-"

"Honorary discharge." Beca sat down next to the taller woman, letting out a muffled groan as her body protested at the sudden movement. She realized quickly she needed to choose her words carefully. "She'll be fine in a few months-time but that doesn't mean she won't be in pain."

Aubrey hummed softly, the two of them tuning out most of the noises that lay past a thin sheet of fabric. The older girl had her fingers wrapped around the inside of Beca's knee, squeezing it with the full intention of comfort. It worked in this case, the woman relaxing into the soothing gesture.

"I'm glad you're alright," Beca whispered, leaning her head on her girlfriend's shoulder, the exhaustion from the day of patching up fallen soldiers was fast approaching, her very own having braved the accident that had ruined so many lives on a given day.

"Me too," Aubrey whispered, pulling Beca closer to her. "Me too."


	3. Drunken Shifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey Posen is ready to go home after a long night at the Hospital. Little does she know, her next patient is someone close.

**Aubrey's body ached.**  Every single part of her weary frame was trembling from stress and pressure on her joints. But despite herself, she loved every aspect of her job; she loved the way the stethoscope hung around her neck, the way it felt when she told a family that their loved one was going to be okay, and most importantly- she loved coming home knowing that she had done every single thing in her power to save the lives brought in through the terminals.

Today was different, however. Today, all Dr. Aubrey Posen wanted to do was curl up next to her fiancé and forget about the troubles. She wanted to forget about the little boy who ended up succumbing to his injuries, and the mother who clutched onto her as she struggled to stay standing; her knees giving out once the horrid news reached her ears.

There were days like this. There were always days like this.

The blonde ran a hand through her hair as she walked past the main doors, a sense of urgency suddenly washing away from her. She had a few more thresholds to pass before she got out those doors and could finally claim a night as hers. The moisture-filled night complete with thunder and lighting that made the hospital even more hectic than usual.

"Oh! Bree!" her breath caught in her throat as she passed the nurses station on the first floor, mouth dry as she raised an eyebrow at her perky little friend. Chloe. The woman had a knack for treating children, she was leaning heavily against the edge of the desk, looking over the chart as her own stethoscope rested by the edge of the counter. "Heading home for the night?"

"Finally," She smiled softly at the pediatrician.

"That's good," The redhead beamed "Any fun plans tonight? Are you and Beca going to watch a movie or something?"

Aubrey cocked her head to the side, an amused expression gracing her features. "Alright, Dr. Beale. As much as I love you, we both know when you're stalling on charts."

"I would never." She gasped, feigning offense, but all with a sly smirk. "What movie are you going to watch?"

" _Goodnight, Chloe_."

Chloe chuckled slightly as she turned her attention back to the diagnosis that she was filling in. The lines were taut and the motions were fluid- paperwork tedious, but necessary. Before Aubrey could turn away from her friend, three even beeps filled the small hallway. Both girls rushed for the pagers on their hips, Chloe knitting her eyebrows together at the blank screen. "It's not me."

"It's me," Aubrey mumbled. "It's trauma one."

"Can't ignore that."

"I suppose not."

Aubrey steadied herself, drawing in a deep breath as she closed her eyes. She had shut down for the night, she was ready to get home and change into some sweatpants. She would have picked up Beca's favorite meal from the Chinese place and grabbed some actual alcohol that was over the proof of 1% because god knows, the producer and doctor would need something to take the edge off after a day like this- an experience like this.

Instead, she opened her eyes and started to sprint towards the ER. The place reeked of blood and sickness. The way the lights sprung on with a fluorescent glow and the different beeps of monitors filled her ears was so familiar that it didn't' matter. Nothing mattered but getting to the emergency room with those patients. If her interns were so inclined to paging her, then it was bad. It had to be bad.

"If a patient isn't on death's door than you will be," Aubrey snarled while one of her main interns, Jessica joined her in her fast walk. She had a chart in her grasp, her eyes flashing with worry. She pulled at her scrubs, uncomfortable with the fit or her own anxieties. "What are we dealing with?"

"Dr. Posen-"The blonde hesitated, causing the older woman to stop in her tracks. Her eyes were wild, her stomach dropped as she clenched her jaw in annoyance. It was a look that would stop traffic. She cleared her throat. "Female, 23. A fractured ulna with two broken fingers. There's a slight concussion against the frontal lobe- we scheduled an MRI to check for internal bleeding. A stellate laceration against the upper left hairline that requires five or six stitches- Flo is on that now…"

Aubrey drew in a breath, a calm and collected breath, as she held up her hand. "Why in the hell would you page me after an 18-hour shift for simple injuries with no detrimental factors?"

She knew she was being unfair to the mouse of a girl. She was probably doing what another resident or attending had told her to do. The woman wasn't soft though, you couldn't be when you had to put all emotions aside in order to save lives. It was a rough way to live, but she left it at the door- she tried to do exactly that when she had all intentions of leaving the hospital that night.

"Aubrey," Jessica said, her voice tender and eyes lacking anything but concern. It made the taller woman clamp her mouth shut and lean back slightly so she wasn't in the intern's face. Something was wrong, it had to be. "I didn't page you because of the patient's injuries. I paged you because of who the patient is."

Her mouth was dry as she cocked her head to the side. God, she was so stupid. Of course, her staff wouldn't pull something like this as some elaborate way for her to cover a shift. This was trouble. Trouble that made Aubrey resume that same exact pace as before- but faster. Faster as a cold sweat dripped against her palms.

"Dr. Posen, wait-"

Jessica's words didn't' meet her ears as her cheeks burned. They were red and splotchy, tears threatening to bubble over her waterline as she rounded the corner into the Emergency room. It was quiet tonight- a few people complaining about a whooping cough and a broken leg here and there. But even quiet was strange in a hospital this size.

Aubrey clenched her jaw as she grasped the metal chart the read "Mitchell" against the top in dry erase marker. Her eyes scanned the information. Well, at least she taught Jessica well enough to understand how to relay information. If she wasn't in such a rush she would congratulate the woman who was following her around like Lassie.

Instead, she walked down to the last cubicle, ignoring the odd stares from the nurses and even a slight nod from a security guard who seemed to understand that the blonde tornado of a woman wasn't to be questioned.

Again, she steadied herself and grasped the thin blue curtain that separated her fiancé from the rest of the world. It reminded her of when she got a stomach ache in middle school- she'd have juice shoved in her palm and maybe some saltines before being told to curl up until a parent could pull her into the safe clutches of home. This was almost the exact same.

Beca was propped up against the bed, the back raised as her arm rested in a makeshift splint that they had fastened in the ambulance. A thick rustic edge of blood had dried against the side of her face from the large scrape against her hairline. She was also coated in dirt. A lot of dirt that soaked through her simple white t-shirt and black sweatpants that she usually wore to the gym. She had a lazy grin on her face, her midnight eyes darker than usual.

" _Jessica?_ "

"We gave her 20cc's of morphine to dull the pain, ma'am."

"Hi, baby!" Beca slurred, a lazy grin on her face as she reached her one good arm out towards her girlfriend. Aubrey just grimaced, waving Jessica away to fast-track that MRI that they had discussed a bit earlier. She was struggling to keep her composure as she closed the curtain and wondered over to Beca's bed. She sat on the corner.

She sighed at Beca reached for her grasp, her touch cold and muddy, the blonde relenting as she squeezed her fingers, reaching over and draping the corner of the blanket over them much to the younger woman's protest. "Bec's what have you gotten yourself into?"

"Some bushes." She said, whole- heartedly "It's not as bad as it looks."

"You have leaves in your hair."

"That's not the only place they are." She giggled, making it hard for Aubrey to scold her. It was a rare occasion- seeing her fiancé behave like she wasn't in charge of everything in the room. She was stubborn and that always showed in her actions. The morphine had lowered some walls.

"What happened to you?" Aubrey said through a slight smile, not being able to resist that stare.

"You said you were working late," She started innocently, struggling to remember the details. "So I called up Stacie and Amy to go out for a few drinks, you know?"

"Mmhm," Aubrey listened intently despite the sentences being drawn out as Beca scanned her mind. The three of them going out for drinks was a bad idea anyway- of course, Aubrey had been known to down a few shots once her friends actually got her going. Beca was no different.

"Stacie got locked out of her apartment, so me, being the noble human that I am, said I would climb through the window."

This struck some fear into the older woman who had scooted closer to her girl, biting the inside of her lip with worry as she cocked her head to the side. "Baby, she lives on the 5th floor."

"I know that now," Beca grumbled like a child "I got sticks shoved up places I didn't even know  _existed_ , Aubrey."

A bark of a laugh escaped Aubrey as she shook her head, "You have a broken arm, you know?"

"I felt it," her eyes widened "Bones are fucking loud, babe."

"Yeah, they are." Aubrey ran her free hand down her face tiredly. She was admittedly exhausted. When she was on duty she didn't have to wait long for test results and things to get done, because something always needed to be tended to. But Beca was the only thing in her life that kept her grounded- and apparently, gravity was the same for her small fiancé.

Instead of scolding the girl when she most likely was in a lot of pain, Aubrey shifted her position. She pulled her hand away from Beca, ignoring the small whimpers as she climbed skillfully into the bed next to her, careful not to poke or prod at any of the fresh wounds. Instead- she let Beca let out a content sigh and curl into her side- well, the most she could in the state that she was in.

Aubrey was gentle as she placed her cool fingers under Beca's chin and lifted her dark gaze up to her own. "What am I going to do with you, Little one?"

Beca let out a content sigh as she didn't respond, instead, she stretched her neck and pressed a soft kiss to her fiancé's lips. The younger girl tasted earthy and fresh, like a night camping without the trademark fire and marshmallows. Both girls knew,

It was going to be that kind of night.


	4. Adventures in Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stacie leaves Baby Bella with a control freak and a grumpy little hobbit.

**"I don't know**  what to do with this thing," The brunette squirmed against the wiggling baby in her hands- her arms outstretched in front of her like she was handling a slowly ticking bomb instead of the eight-month-old that was in her grasp. Deep chocolate eyes stared innocently into cobalt ones- ones filled with fear and concern.

"Beca, it's a baby." She heard a soft voice behind her as she continued to look at the toddler kicking her chubby little feet in the air like this was a game. To her, it was- little noises moving from her tiny body as Beca refused to break eye contact. "Not a landmine."

A guttural grunt pushed past the small girls throat as Aubrey moved around the couch, still keeping the large diaper bag around her shoulder, the strap refusing to fall from her broad stance as she grasped Bella from her girlfriends grasp- the baby let out a pleased squeal as Beca let her arms drop to her sides, a sigh moving against her lips.

Aubrey's olive stare flashed with amusement as she balanced the girl on her hip, her short brown locks clouding very golden eyes. She looked just like her mother, with soft features and a pension for beaming through every single situation- even with Beca looking so uncomfortable.

"We're only watching her for the afternoon," Aubrey mumbled, shoving the bag into Beca's stomach as she wrapped her arms around it, getting the air knocked from her lungs for a split second. At least it wasn't the baby. "Besides its good practice."

The smaller girl's eyes widened as she stared after Aubrey, the blonde beaming with innocence as she walked to their kitchen, making little noises as she poked Bella's stomach with her finger, causing the little girl to giggle at the funny faces the blonde had pulled.

Beca shook her head clear of the impending sentence that was just uttered as she stalked into the kitchen, peaking her head around the wall… She watched as Aubrey placed the girl into the highchair that Stacie had dropped off with her child- her little feet kicking in the air in front of her while her stare met the short woman.

Bella gave her a slobbery smile, letting out another squeal as she beamed. It warmed the younger woman's heart, finally allowing her to step out from the little wall that she was hugging so tightly. Aubrey was busying herself with pulling some baby food from the fridge. She was humming softly, Beca lowering herself into the chair across from Bella, staring her down.

"Alright, kid." She said, leaning back as the chair groaned under her weight, crossing her arms over her chest. "I guess you're kind of cute."

She let out another string of words that Beca couldn't make much sense of.

"Maybe really cute," She pointed an accusatory finger at the toddler. "But only when you do that nose thing."

"What nose thing?" Aubrey spoke in a low whisper as she reached over her girlfriend and set a blue rubber spoon next to a small bottle with an even chunkier baby on it. Beca wondered bitterly how sweet of a gig that was- the kid was set for life, and no one would recognize him after a few years.

Aubrey pressed against her back, wrapping her arm around the girl's chest as she rested her chin on the brunette's shoulder. The scent of lemon and mint filled the younger girl's lungs, she hummed against the subtle touch. She was preoccupied as the blonde popped the tin lid from the jar- Bella's eyes widening at the scent of sweet potato and ground turkey. It made Beca's stomach lurch.

"That!" Beca shifted in her seat with excitement "That little squish thing. It's like she's scowling"

"Bec's she's the happiest baby around." Aubrey shook her head as she pulled away from her girlfriend, dragging a seat up to the high-chair. The legs made an odd sound that distracted the baby for a few seconds before she became infatuated with the food again. "You're telling me that little baby Bella is scowling at you?"

Beca huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing the little tike. Aubrey was focused on the neon orange mush as she shoveled some onto the spoon. Bella pulled that very look once more, causing Beca to breathe in sharply. "Oh, you're just mocking me now."

Aubrey glanced at the mouse of a human, but Beca's stormy gaze was focused beyond her viewpoint. She was having a stare down with a child and wouldn't waver her hard expression. She was pouting in a way, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Stop taunting the baby." Aubrey mumbled, turning back to her task as she raised the spoon, changing the tone of her voice "Are you hungry Bella?"

"She's evil."

_"Beca!"_

"Sorry…"


	5. I'm not Jealous (Okay, maybe a little)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey runs into Beca during her morning coffee run.

**The steam from**  Beca's coffee pressed against her cheeks, filling her lungs with its strong sour odor as she clenched her eyes shut. Beca couldn't function without her morning coffee- a little button in her brain refusing to be activated until she got at least an ounce of coffee in her.

The problem was the coffee shop. It was all the way across campus. She had to drag herself from her dorm room at 7am exactly just to make it to the little Starbucks that lie at the edge of the 800 building.

She would begrudgingly pull herself from her bed and wrap a scarf around her neck, trying to shield her nose from the brutal touch of Jack Frost. It was just another reason for the grumpy girl to wish she had a large cup of black coffee in her system.

A thick and cooling scent coated her lungs as the little bell above the door cut through the sound of wind pressing close to Beca's ears. She shivered as the warmth countered the chill that ran down her spine. She sniffed, getting a few glances from a couple of students already in line- their eyes bloodshot with exhaustion.

Beca stood behind a boy that she had never seen before, peeling off her wool glove as she started to scroll through random social media to pass the time. She wasn't much for Twitter, but it was an apt distraction for right now.

Her mouth was dry as she felt the body heat of another behind her, her stomach turning as she lifted her chin towards the sweet lemony scent that filled her nose. It was overwhelming, but she knew exactly who it belonged to. Beca closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. The smell was comforting but reminded her all too much of Bella's.

Aubrey.

Beca felt a familiar warmth press against her abdomen. Her mouth sour as the exhaustion that once filled her wasn't as prominent. She wasn't sure if it was just her bodies reaction to the memory of pushing herself so hard to complete the cardio the warden had prescribed, or if the falling feeling was due to how soft Aubrey's nature could be.

The shorter girl eventually worked up the nerve to turn slightly and catch deep forest eyes. They didn't' always look green- Beca had learned that when Aubrey decided to wear a pale blue shirt that reflected until they were a slate grey that sent chills up her spine. Weird chills that the DJ didn't' want to confront. She avoided Aubrey altogether after that week- or at least she tried for a good span of time.

"Beca?" The voice was silken, something that made the Brunette still in her worries. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I have a lab," She laughed nervously, finally turning to face the girl who was so close to her. She wore a smile on pink lips despite the sun barely being up- her nose red from the raw bite of the cold outside. "What's your excuse Captain?"

"I'm always up this early." She waved the shorter girl away, her cheeks rosy.

Beca bit back a remark as she nodded, taking a few steps forward when the line moved. The woman behind the counter caught her gaze. She had a deep steely gaze, one that sparks each time Beca stepped foot into the little off-brand shop. It was never something she paid much attention to, but Aubrey stiffened at the sight. She cocked her head to the side, a streak of jealousy moving through her when the woman in the visor grinned at Beca.

"Hey, Bec's" The woman smirked "The usual?"

"You know me too well, Kat." The smaller girl leaned heavily into her words.

Aubrey let out a chaste sigh as she shoved her hands into her pockets, shaking her head softly. Something about the way this girl stared at Beca, her Beca, rubbed her the wrong way. The shorter girl clearly wasn't hers in the slightest but that didn't stop the jealousy from rearing its nasty head.

"Oh Shit," Beca suddenly said, pulling the girl from her thoughts. "I forgot my wallet in my dorm. I'm sorry Kat. I just wasted so much of your time."

"It's coffee, black Beca. The most you'll waste is a Styrofoam cup." The dark haired woman admitted. "Don't worry it's on me."

"Oh my god, really?" Beca perked up "You are a real lifesaver."

The woman leaned further against the counter. Aubrey did anything in her power to keep her from speaking out against the action. Her nails dug into her palm as she lifted her chin softly, catching the demeaning stare of Kat. She knew exactly what she was doing- having seen Aubrey and Beca interact before outside of the small little franchise.

"How about you repay me on Friday night when you buy me one of my own?" She smirked.

"I would-"

"She has plans," Aubrey said, her words dripping with poison as she wrapped her arm around Beca's waist. Her touch was soft and gentle despite the hash quality of her words. Beca's lips parted slightly as she stared up at the taller woman, too jarred to speak up. "Isn't that right, babe?"

"Oh, I hadn't realized…" Kat trailed off, scratching the back of her neck. "Coffee is still on me, Beca."

"Thank you," The girl whispered softly wrapping her hand around the cup as Aubrey forgot about her craving for caffeine. Instead, she pulled the smaller girl along, not bothering to explain anything until she was out of earshot from the deep vixen that poured coffee for a living.

"Bree, what the hell was that all about?" Beca asked, finally wiggling out of the woman's grasp once they were by the glass doors. Each girl could feel the contrast of a draft beginning to form but neither seemed to care anymore. "You were acting like you were jealous or something. And of Kat of all people? The girl is harmless."

The blonde clenched her eyes shut, letting out a shaky sigh as Beca took her free hand and squeezed the edge of Aubrey's fingers. The gesture was simple but overwhelming. She couldn't take it anymore, the fire in the pit of her stomach propelling her to push forward as she pressed her lips chaste against the smaller girl's lips."

Beca was still at first, her breath quickened as she eventually melted into the embrace, snaking her free hand around the woman's waist before pushing further into her. Aubrey's own finger-tips grazing a stone cut jaw.

"She is not harmless," Aubrey mumbled a low growl into Beca's lips. "She's a threat."


	6. Dirty Dishes & Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca never learned how to slow dance, and Aubrey won't stand for it.

**The warm water**  washed over her palms, almost hot to the touch as steam collected along the front window. Beca tried not to stare out into the inky darkness too long- it would stir fear against her stomach, the floodlight for the backyard usually lit up the area within the fence, but now, it was just quiet.

She let out a slight huff, getting used to the sterilizing heat of the frothy mess that clouded the sink at this point- her sponge dipped under the water as she blindly tried to pry day-old cheerio's out of a blue plastic travel mug. She wasn't complaining. It was a hell of a lot easier than the baby bottles had been. It was a blessing that they had been pushed into a back shelf at this point.

Her hair fell into midnight eyes as she struggled to grasp the plug at the bottom of the sink, pulling it up with a muffled pop to finally drain it- her free hand reaching towards the dry dish towel to her right. Everything was so quiet, her body aching from a long day at the station, eyes threatening to close, even while standing in the middle of her kitchen.

"I got Allie to bed," She heard her wife's soft voice from the archway, averting her attention from the mess she had just cleaned up. Even in the soft light of the room, Aubrey looked stunning. She was still in her work clothes, a pin stripped blue and white button down, half of it untucked from dark jeans- her hair having been put up in a lazy bun, strands of gold falling around her face. "We really have to get her out of this biting phase."

She held up her hand with a pout, a large red welt against her palm in the shape of little teeth. It made Beca scoff, taking a step forward as she took her wife's hand in hers, "Oh, that's a nasty one." She let her lips sooth the dark spot, Aubrey letting out a content sigh as she felt the smaller girls gentle touch.

"Ew," the blonde groaned, pulling away softly "You're all wet from the dishes."

Beca dropped the girl's hand and looked down at her grey t-shirt, it was completely soaked through, the logo for the station looked ten times darker when it was damp. A mischievous grin finding a way to her features as she brought her blue eyes back to green ones. "Maybe we should switch jobs tomorrow night, then."

"Oh please," Aubrey huffed "You couldn't handle a flesh wound like this. You are far too dramatic."

Beca parted her lips as Aubrey walked over to the kitchen table, reaching down to the side where a large blue basket rested; the two of them letting Allie play with a few things during their actual meal. She was in the tantrum phase, and sometimes, it was a lot easier to let the girl grow distracted during dinner. Aubrey started to push a few blocks into the container. "Oh, I talked to Dana at work."

The smaller woman internally groaned, scrunching up her nose. It wasn't that she didn't like Dana, she just didn't' like Dana's ideas. The young paralegal was never content with having a normal office. She would schedule fundraisers, and bowling nights and god forbid, the dances. The dances Beca had effectively gotten out of since the first one was mentioned.

"Stop making that face," Aubrey said without turning around.

"What face? I'm not making a face!" Beca defended "You didn't even look at me."

"Yeah, well, I'm a mom. I have eyes on the back of my head now."

"Want to tell me when I can get a pair?" The brunette joked "How cool would it be to watch tv in the shower?"

She got a small confused glare from Aubrey as she placed the last block in the basket, letting it rest on the dining room table. Beca was effectively leaning against the counter at this point, her arms crossed over her chest unhappily. She had the beginning of a pout forming on her features.

"Dana organized a charity ball." The blonde said tiredly, "I told her we would go, but that's only because we bailed on the fun run for the new senior center last month."

The brunette lifted her chin slightly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Their daughter had come down with the flu, not necessarily a break. Beca had to fight through her own nausea the moment Allie had thrown up down her back. She had muddled through some joke about how she took after her mother. But internally, she hated every moment of it. Rushing for a shower and continuing to spend the rest of the weekend with Aubrey nursing their little girl back into health.

"Oh, I can't make it that night." Beca said with a sigh "Someone booked the studio."

"Beca," Aubrey deadpanned with a raised brow, "I didn't say what day the Charity ball was."

She let out a long groan, melting into her wife's touch as Aubrey wrapped her hands delicately around her waist, pressing her forehead gently against Beca's. The smaller girl closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of lavender and baby shampoo. It was Aubrey, her Aubrey. She could tell her anything- yet, this was harder. This was something that made her cheeks redden and stomach drop.

"Why are you so hesitant?" The blonde asked, barely above a whisper as Beca placed her fingers on the girl's hips, making sure she wasn't going anywhere. "You're always so great at these events, babe. Everyone loves you."

Beca drew in a soft breath. She wasn't always like this, it was the combination of Aubrey's persistence and Chloe's bubbly personality that helped her find herself during college. She didn't' shelter herself as much, she let people in. Going into the music industry was no different- she was supposed to be charming and trusting. The events were really a breeze for her.

"Not dances." The brunette finally lets out in a rush of emotion, Aubrey pulling her forehead back a bit as she blinked those brilliant eyes at the woman in her embrace. "I don't know how… to slow dance."

The taller of the two lifted an eyebrow, parting her lips. It seemed near impossible that the girl didn't know how to slow dance. Everyone had that awkward phase in middle school where the teacher placed a ruler between two clumsy teenagers. But Beca never had, she worked through the eighth-grade dance.

Their wedding was no different. After the disapproval from over half of those who would attend in the first place, they took Chloe and flew to Las Vegas to elope. Not the smoothest move, but it proved not to matter. They didn't need a big ceremony, and it had effectively pulled the method of a first dance away. Leaving them in the situation they had right now.

"Oh," Aubrey breathed out, Beca averting her gaze as the woman ran her hands down Beca's arms, it was soothing, the blonde stopping at her hands as she squeezed her fingers around her wife's. "Come here."

The brunette knit her eyebrows together as Aubrey took a step back into the middle of their kitchen, a lopsided smile on perfect lips. Beca was skeptical, but let Aubrey pull her forward into the center of the tile.

"Stand up straight," Aubrey demanded softly, trying to ease her into it. Beca did as she was told, awkward and not sure of where to put her hands exactly. She eased a bit as Aubrey took her right hand in hers, raising it slightly in the air as she intertwined their fingers.

"Bree," Beca mumbled softly, not really pushing for her to stop, but still unsure of the situation.

"Shh," The blonde responded, placing her other hand on the edge of Beca's opposite hip. "Put your hand on my arm."

Shakily the smaller of the two placed her hand right above Aubrey's elbow, earning a bit of a nod from her partner. It filled her with an indescribable pride, a soft approval from someone that meant the world and beyond to her. "Good, now stand on my feet."

"I'm not going to stand on your feet," Beca reddened, ever the stubborn one. She looked down at her own, covered in mismatched socks. She didn't want to hurt the girl, knowing that the extra pressure would cause some discomfort. Aubrey, however, didn't seem to quell the idea, letting out a huff.

"Bec's, I'm in my work shoes, I won't feel a thing. Don't be so shy."

With a slight breath, the girl stepped onto her wife's feet, a bit wobbly at first as a delicate smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "Whoa," She tried to find her balance, Aubrey holding back a chuckle at the antics.

"The waltz is really simple." She said, moving her hand from Beca's hip to the small of her back to steady herself more. She took it slow, taking a slight step out to the side as she guided the smaller woman. "You step to the right."

Beca nodded softly, following the movement of her wife. "Then backward."

Aubrey stepped forward with that, leading like a professional. She technically was, her parents forcing her into simple classes when she was younger. She never saw the need to know what fork was used for mini orange slices- but this, she could thank them for. Now, she could easily talk her girl through the steps.

"You'll be a pro in no time." She husked after going through more than a few rounds of the footwork. Beca had gotten the hang of it quickly, even daring to step away from her feet for the last steps- a prideful smile on her lips. "We can take it as slow as you want."

"Slow," Beca squeezed the blonde's upper arm, ghosting her lips over the woman's expression, "I would like that."

She closed the distance between them, bringing their lips together with a swift movement. She finally moved her grasp from Aubrey's arm, cupping her jaw gently as the two worked together with the same spark that they had shared since meeting at the activities fair, even if they didn't quite know it right away.


	7. Empty Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchsen Prompt-Aubrey Posen has always had her life planned out for her. Go to college, get a degree with the highest accomplishments, go to law school and become a lawyer. It's the Posen way, and Posen's will always want to be the best of the best. But when Beca Mitchell ask what Aubrey wants in life, not what the Posen want but just Aubrey as a person. Aubrey can't help but feel lost. And as Aubrey ponders, she makes some revelations. One involving the DJ

**The old room**  was desolate. There were not posters littering the cold brick walls. Not lights hung around a tacky cork board that had the memories tacked into the malleable material. There wasn't even a rug against the tiled floor- just a drab grey duvet that looked like it had never been slept on, a book (that looked like it was by Rudyard Kipling) And a reading lamp.

It's what Beca imagined prison to be like, without the wires of course, but the closest thing to it. There was nothing personal about the small room in the New York City apartment. And she wasn't much of a decorator herself- but one could figure some interests from the large amount of mixing equipment she always had close by, and the picture of her girls that rested in a frame crafted during a bonding exercise. But this? This was sad.

"She doesn't really talk to any of us," the stranger that had let Beca into the apartment spoke. She looked like a nice enough girl; brunette and snide. If anything, she reminded the Dj of an eel with dark placid eyes. She said something about being a classmate of Aubrey, sharing a few conversations with her. "She's neat and pays rent on time, so we don't ask any questions."

"Yeah," Beca nodded softly, turning to face the girl. She was leaning heavily on the doorframe, stare occasionally scanning over the woman's frame. She had her arms crossed over her chest almost like she was studying her for something.  _Law Majors_. Beca thought bitterly. "That sounds like Aubrey."

And it did. At least the neurotic parts of the girl hadn't shifted since she informed the group that she had given up on the retreat. It wasn't what her father wanted her to do with her life. She was wasting good potential and was better suited for a life in the city. This didn't' look like the best fit to Beca. All she saw was a sad gloomy room where houseplants came to die. She had even noticed that most of the woman's boxes were unpacked, and it had been almost eight months. This wasn't home by a long shot.

"Hmm," The stranger nodded with absence, "Well, she usually comes home around five from class, but the rain might be keeping her… feel free to crack a book." She hesitated "Well, one book."

"Thank you," Beca stated. What else was she to say? The woman had her own things to attend to, letting the door close simply behind her. It left the brunette to stand in the middle of the room- almost afraid to move like she was in an art exhibit. A man with a yardstick would come over at any moment and tell her not to touch the art, it was only an installation piece to be looked at.

She was lucky she wasn't dripping grimy rainwater all over the floor. She was careful to shake herself out before she even knocked on the door to the apartment. The thick scent of must was still in the air- almost like it clung to her black pea coat. It did, at this point, a bad cold to shake. One that rocked her to her core and ate away at her stomach. Maybe it was better this way. Better than getting a dosage of Aubrey's signature scent. The kind that warmed her in an almost opposite effect.

It was vanilla. Not like the cheap stuff that you could buy at a craft store to mask an odor for a few minutes. The kind with glitter and shine laced into the liquid. No, this was something that reminded Beca of the cooking extract. Picked clean from the trees and condensed into a little amber bottle with a rubber dropper that looked like an old medicinal tool from the 1800's. Aubrey always smelled sweet and dark at the same time- a library with hundreds of novels just waiting to be dusted off. A little diner in the middle of the night riddled with mysterious characters. An evening spent in curled up by the fire while snow collected at the window sills.

Yeah, the rain was better. Less painful.

She eventually settled for lowering herself against the corner of the bed, not exactly sitting, but not standing either. She smoothed her palm over the centered wrinkles her added weight created. It shattered the illusion that she wasn't' really here. That her eyes didn't' begin to flash over the bricks and count them by two's.

It was only when she heard the creak of the bedroom door that she pulled herself from her memories. Her midnight eyes flashed towards the offending object. She stood quickly, not sure if she should shove her hands in her pockets or let them hang to the side awkwardly. She wouldn't dream of crossing them over her chest- as if not to scare the blonde away.

The Aubrey that she saw in front of her was anything but composed. It wasn't the same confident woman that was at the retreat or the one that looked so elegant sitting across from her in a dimly lit restaurant that was too expensive for its own good. It wasn't the woman who sat around in her sweatpants and cried over weddings in cheesy lifetime movies. It was someone broken, and tired.

Her hair was damp from the rain, usually, forest eyes faded to a dull grey. Her skin had paled from winters hand, a leather bag hanging off her shoulder. It was weighted down with a laptop and textbooks, no doubt. She had to stop herself from dropping it, fingers wrapping with haste around the strap.

She didn't know what to say, so Beca spoke first.

"Your roommate let me in."

Beca licked her lips. They tasted earthy, cold from the weather. Aubrey simply herded herself into the room, shutting the door carefully behind her as she let her bag hit the floor with a dull thud. Her chest was heaving, no doubt from the many flights of stairs that she had to climb. Maybe from the way, Beca stared at her now. If this room at access to a fire escape, she wasn't entirely sure Aubrey wouldn't bolt.

"I think she would have questioned me more if she wasn't so curious about the type of people that you know." She said. "Knew."

Aubrey nodded, sniffing. It sounded like she had a cold, or maybe it was just the rainwater that still dripped off her features. The way she had that determined stare that made Beca's heart warm in a way that she hadn't felt in a long while. She almost yearned for the woman's touch again. Completely forgetting about past arguments that lead to why they were in this situation now.

It was the  _Posen way_. That brought the young lawyer to New York in the first place. She left behind her business, her friends, her family- and the love of her life. Or at least, that's how Beca regarded herself by how often Aubrey had said it. How often she thought she meant it. She was her father's daughter, and nothing about his demanding future struck Aubrey as odd. It clouded her, and now that was all Beca had come to realize.

Aubrey didn't think herself was good enough for anyone because that was the household she was brought up in. It caused her to drop everything in Atlanta to go back home- to work at her family's firm. There was no time for love or loss. She hadn't allowed herself to feel anything towards the situation. And it had all come rushing back to both girls.

"I had to ask you a few questions," Beca stated.

"The phone works well."

"You wouldn't have answered."

No, she wouldn't have. They both knew that. After a few months, Beca had stopped trying altogether. She knew when she wasn't wanted. The brunette had her own career to focus on, part of the reason she had flown to the city in the first place. It was just the devils' hand and the cruel sting of curiosity that brought Beca to ask Chloe for her ex-lover's current address. The ginger reluctantly gave it up.

Aubrey nodded with care, not pulling herself away from the door. She was scanning Beca, almost like the roommate, but this time, it sent an undeniable wave of pleasure through the woman. She cursed herself, wishing her body wouldn't betray her the way it had- a form of wetness drumming up between her legs. Her heartbeat pounding with more intent.

She ignored it.

"Are you happy?" It wasn't the question that Beca had intended to lead with, not in a malice or ill-intended way, either. She was curious. Because this? This certainly didn't look like the room of someone who enjoyed what they were doing in life. "You know, here, in your new shiny life."

Aubrey scoffed, her life was far from shiny. It was clouded over and scared her shitless, but part of her didn't' want Beca to know that. To know that the rash decision to move with loomed with the desire to pull the younger woman into her arms once more and breathe in her scent.

"No," Aubrey didn't have to lie, she was sure that Beca knew she had a tell. It was one of the things neither could forget. No matter how comprised Aubrey was, she couldn't' lie. Not to Beca. The corner of her lip would twitch in the slightest of ways. It was almost endearing, how observant he girl was about her. "But is it about happiness?"

"If it's not, then what could be driving you?" She shot back with another question, gaining more of a nerve. "Your father's approval? Your five-year plan?"

No matter how much she hated to admit it, she was not apart of that plan. Beca knew that Aubrey had her quirks: the way she left crumbs on the butter that rested in the fridge, the way she would lose her lunch the second things grew too stressful, and the way she had the meticulous five-year plan about her feature. The one that was skewed the second Beca had embraced her after a shouting match between the two. It was the best sex they had ever had, to this day. Passionate and a mix of rage and love. Painful and relinquishing all at once. Almost like they gave up a part of themselves that night. Settled for just being in each other's arms in bliss.

"Are you asking me what I want?" Aubrey finally settled her breathing, pulling herself away from the door. Her muscles cried in pain, mixing of the temperatures telling her body to relax and tense up at the same time. She stared Beca down.

Beca swallowed, she wasn't sure. "It clearly isn't this."

"I am supposed to be here, Beca." She said "I make money here. I'll own the firm one day-"

"I'm not asking what General Posen wants." It took everything in the smaller girl not to add a twinge of jealousy into her voice. The man clearly had blinding power in the situation that she didn't possess herself. Her voice was raised, heat in her cheeks. "What do  _you_  want?"

With each word, she jammed her finger into Aubrey's collarbone. It wasn't hard enough to hurt her, maybe just a bit irritating. Each time her skin made contact with Aubrey's her heart seemed to grow louder, deafening as the rain picked up past a cloudy window.

The kiss should have come out of nowhere, it should have shocked Beca into complying and letting her tense feelings melt away. Instead, it was completely expected and heavenly. Aubrey clasped her hands gently into Beca's damn brown locks, pressing her cold nose against her cheek as soft lips met in the middle. The kiss was filled with passion, dear god, that passion.

Beca nipped back lightly, her heart so dominating at that point. It wasn't an answer, it wasn't something that she could lull over. Something that made her think more about how the woman in her embrace let her go with so much delicacy. No doubt, crying on the plane as Beca curled into the silk sheets they once shared. Yearning for that vanilla scent- something she felt now. Something she pushed herself flush against.

The answer was clearly and simply put.  _"You"_


	8. Deal With a Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchsen Prompt - Mr Mitchell made a deal with a demon (Aubrey). In order to save his wife and unborn child, he needs to give up his child (Beca) to the demon once the child turns 18. Because of this, Beca never had a good relationship with her father (he kept the deal a secret) and wonders why he forces her to learn how to fight (not that she’s complaining).

**Beca tilted her**  head back, letting the sour liquid engulf her throat in a blanket of flames. She remembered the first time that she had an ounce of alcohol. It made her lose her lunch a few moments later. But she was still buzzed- still risking the pain for that warm and tingly feeling that took the edge off a long day of work.

Retail shouldn’t be that much of a nightmare. She would get to work early, fold a few clothes, restock a few shelves, and then ring up a few sales as soon as those doors open. No, it wouldn’t’ be  _so_ bad, but then you had the customers. The customers who would insist on making her life a living hell.

She almost wished that that blue vest would make her invisible. That she wouldn’t’ run into a dozen suburban housewives with fake spray on tans, just waiting to whip out a new coupon that they found in the newspaper. They had nothing better to do, and frankly, neither did Beca.

The young brunette found herself in a bar, with a fake I.D and a reason not to go home to her father. Instead, she raised her hand to the pretty redhead behind the counter with the soft blue eyes. Chloe, she remembered. The girl not remembering to stare at her card enough to realize Beca didn’t’ look anything like Tracy from Long Island who has green eyes and weights 115.

Regardless, she palmed her keys and stood from her seat, the legs scraping against the peanut shell littered floor. She never saw the point of those little bowls, they were cross, who knows how many people reached in for a snack that balanced the beer.

Beca Mitchell wasn’t drunk. Beca Mitchell wasn’t even buzzed, and it bothered her. It bothered her that she could still see straight. That she could feel the pain that wracked her muscles and pulled at her spine. She threw a wink at the bartender before she exited into the sticky night air.

It had rained earlier, bringing a musty scent into the parking lot. She could almost feel the heat that rose from the asphalt, the green tint of a floodlamp attached to the side of the trucker bar stinted Beca’s resistance. She had a headache, one that pounded near her temple and made her ache for her bed. She should have gone straight home.

Her fingers fumbled with her keys, mind numb as she unlocked her car. An old Junker that her father had gotten from one of his police buddies at a locker auction. Beca pretended not to notice the metallic scent of blood that filled the back seat or the newer window that stood out from the other three. The color was a sickly olive green, it made her stand out, made her wish she had a cloaking device.

“Ma’am,” the voice startled her, she must admit. “You dropped your ID.”

It was so silent, not even the sound of traffic from the nearby highway was loud enough to break the barrier. She was so certain she was alone, so content with being by herself tonight. Beca would have heard the footfalls of another. Sensed them.

She gripped her keys tighter as she turned to face the stranger. A woman, she knew. Beca ran her fingers over the plastic symbol that was embedded in her chain as she took the girl in; a picture of beauty compared to the people she had to deal with every single day.

Her eyes were a deep emerald, the whites almost tinted blue by the harsh atmosphere in which they stood. She held herself strong, dressed in a simple pair of dark jeans and a grey t-shirt that was tucked in right at the buckle, hanging loosely around her backside. Golden locks of hair flowed over her shoulders, lips painted in a bold crimson that made her flush.

“You don’t really look like a Tracy.” The woman lifted a perfectly painted eyebrow, inspecting the ID. “And your Birthdate is wrong too.”

That wasn’t the only thing wrong with the card, but something told Beca this stranger already knew that. “You a cop?”

“No,” She chuckled, outstretching her hand. “Not a cop.”

Beca cautiously grasped the ID, balancing it between her forefinger and set of keys as she shifted awkwardly. If she was up for it, she would stay for conversation. Get to know the first stranger in this town she had ever come across. “Thank you, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it.” The stranger took a small step back towards the establishment.

The conversation was over almost as fast as began, Beca haphazardly shoving her keys into the lock, twisting it until she heard the dull click of her car corroborating for once. She heard a few more steps, the woman walking back to the bar, seemingly less quiet than she had been before.

“Happy Birthday, Beca!” she spoke, not loud, not yelling. But enough for the young brunette to hear. Enough for her to regret that last drink.

She hurried into her car. There was a certain fear to her, one that reminded her of when she would turn off the lights in the living room as a child. She was just in the space, she knew that no one was there and that she was safe. Yet the second the darkness clouded she would dash to her room- not feeling a sense of relief until she slammed the door shut and curled under her duvet.

Beca leaned into the leather seat that instantly adhered to her spine, a cold sweat pooling against her chest as she started the car. Her tires squealed as she pulled onto the main road, chalking the encounter with the stranger up to fear and exhaustion.

“ _Sack up, dude._ _”_  Beca swallowed tensely. “No way in Hell did that just happen.”  

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Fuck!”

Beca shouted, her eyes flashing up to the rearview mirror. The unripe stare she was met with made her bones shake. The wheel drifting as a bright and blinding light corrupted her vision. The strong honk from another car on the pulled her back to reality, tires screeching once more as she jerked back into her lane.

“Be careful there, Beca” The blonde stranger warned, “I think a car like this is considered cursed if more than one person dies in here.”

“I’m sorry?!” Beca eased, slightly proud for pulling a coherent thought from her mind in the first place. Her heart was pounding against the inside of her wrist, breath shallow. “What the fuck are you doing in my car?”

“Rick was a nice guy,” The woman sighed, scooting forward in the middle seat until she draped her arm against the passenger side headrest. She looked almost casual. “Course, the guy who shot him in the backseat was kind of nice too. Really good at soap carving too.”

 _“_   _Oh, my God._   _”_  

The woman narrowed her eyes at the statement, her cynical smile not dropping in the slightest. Instead, she very smoothly maneuvered herself into the front seat, sweat continuing to coat every inch of her body as she panted.

“I don’t have much money, but you can have it if you want.” She eased out, bringing the car to a slow stop at the one light that they have in town. The red color shaded the stranger, made the color of her lips seem at home. “ _Please_ just don’t hurt me.”

The woman hummed thoughtfully “Begging isn’t very flattering on you, Beca Mitchell.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things about you.” She shrugged like it was obvious information. “You’re a Libra, you really have an affinity for music, and damn- are you stuck in a dead in Job. Talk about consistent.” There was a heavy laugh. “Oh, and you turned 18 today. Which makes you fair game.”

Beca was silent for a few moments, not exactly knowing how to quell the terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was hot, yet she was shaking. She had only gotten the flu twice in her lifetime, and somehow, it seemed she felt a lot worse than both of those instances combined.

“Fair game for what?”

“Whatever I please, really.” She leaned back in her seat, almost feeding off the feared look in her counterpart’s eyes. “Technically you work for me now.”

“You’re fucking insane, you know that, right?”

“I know that.” She smirked. “But you’re under contract.”

Beca hadn’t noticed that the light turned green. The woman lifted her chin, telling her to continue her journey. Part of Beca didn’t’ want to lead this woman home, but she knew it didn’t matter. That no matter what, she was going to spend a good portion of her night with this woman.

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you remember when your mom was sick?” She smirked, leaning back in her seat as she placed a velvet heeled boot on the dashboard. Beca wanted to batt it away but decided against it. Keeping her focus on the road. The question had caught her off guard, all of this strange. But she nodded softly. “She miraculously got better, correct?”

“Right.” It came out as a small whisper from a shell of a person.

“Byron Mitchell struck a deal. You for her, I suppose.” The stranger kept speaking, but it was more like a buzz in the back of Beca’s mind. She felt like she knew this all along, that it was just repetition. “She gets to live, and you’re mine for the rest of eternity… after your 18th birthday, of course. I’m not completely unreasonable.”

“A deal with the devil.” Beca murmured, not allowing the emotion to get the best of her. She wouldn’t’ cry. Not here, not now.  She swallowed the lump in her throat, drawing in a careful breath. “Perfect.”

“You didn’t’ think your mothers’ miraculous recovery was based on prayer, did you?” The blonde sniped, lifting a chin in response. Her tone was condescending and caused Beca to tighten her grip on the wheel.

“What do you want from me?”

“Beca Mitchell,” The stranger lilted her head to the side “I’m so glad you asked.”


	9. Bloody Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchsen prompt where Vampire!Aubrey is jealous and Human!Beca doesn't know Aubrey is a vampire?

**He said something** that made her laugh. Something that made her shoulders shake and something other than a snide smirk grace her lips. It was the genuine type of laugh. A happiness that made those dusky pools glisten in the coffee house lights. They were yellow and dull, and they shade Beca’s features like no other.

She held her coffee close to her lips, not quite taking a sip, but breathing in the scented steam. It made her cheeks flush in a way that could only be described as human. She was just that. So tenderly human, even if she did try to bury down the emotions that came with a beating heart.  

Beca’s arm was draped lazily over the back of her chair, main focus on the man that made her smile. Some studio junkie who had soft blue eyes that contrasted the hard ones of his supervisor. Aubrey remembered the small girl talking about him, he was kind enough, persistent for sure. She eventually gave in for a free cup of coffee. But he had captivated her attention quickly.

Aubrey dug her nails into the glazed cup that rested between her hands. The glass cracked, shattered, really. She wanted to wince at the edge that sliced into her palm, or even the scalding black coffee that dripped down her arms. But instead, she had to sheepishly apologize to the man sitting a few seats down from her. He stared over his paper, bushy eyebrows raised before he let out a long huff. Shaking his head.

“Jesus, Bree.” Chloe strung together a few curse words as she rolled her shoulders back. The spunky redhead piled the pieces of broken glass into her palm, letting them drop with a comically large bang into the nearest trash bin. The colored liquid soaked into her white apron. “That’s your third cup.”

“He made her laugh.” The girl defended, pulling a few napkins from the little metal holder to her right. She placed it into the liquid, letting it soak up the dark mass with heavy intention.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Chloe waved her hand in front of her face “And fifteen minutes ago she leaned closer to him when he started talking. And ten minutes before that he made her smile.”

Aubrey shuddered as she remembered the actions. He did do all of that. Some little stagehand had Beca wrapped around his finger with the flash of white teeth and the promise of something more.

“ _He_ is human.”

“Yeah, well, so is half the worlds population.” Chloe sighed heavily, leaning into the counter. The place was almost empty, the two women tucked into the furthest depths of the coffee house. Chloe was hiding from her manager, but it didn’t seem to matter anyway. “Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean you have to tear the man down.”

She leaned back in her seat, scoffing loudly in offense. “I am not jealous, Chlo. I don’t get jealous.”

“Mm-hm.” Chloe smirked, throwing the damp rag over her shoulder. “She’s getting awful close to him. Ow wow! Look at the way she’s gripping his arm-“

“WHAT?!” Aubrey spun around quickly in her seat, voice booming. The stool screeching in reaction to her shift in body weight. The man next to her let out a long groan, crunching his reading material as he shot daggers at her.

“Listen kid, if you love this girl so much, get off your ass and go get her.” He wasn’t much for conversation, pushing his glasses back up his greasy nose as Chloe sat with her mouth agape, barking out a laugh. “No use sitting here and torturing yourself.”

Aubrey felt the air leave her lungs as she narrowed her eyes at the man. She wanted to be angry, to let that jealousy settle in the base of her stomach. Because hell, no one else should captivate Beca like that. She wanted to spring forward and rip his throat out. But she didn’t.

Instead, she pushed her chair back, it made an ungodly noise against the tile, Chloe rushing her fingers through her thick mane of hair as she watched her friend carefully. She had the familiarity of danger in the back of her mind. The only thing worse than Aubrey angry was Aubrey jealous.

She was poised, her shoulders strung back as she drew in a stilling breath. Her t-shirt pinched at her sides, her footfalls almost echoing against the long walk towards the table. She had no idea what she was going to say- why her mouth suddenly felt like cotton, and her hands suddenly moist.

Beca had to do a double take. Her swarthy eyes flashing in something other than shock as she halted mid-sentence. She sat back with almost amusement as she draped her hand over the back of the chair. The boy, the one she was so enamored with, didn’t have to look twice. He turned completely, balancing his mug in his fingertips.

“Bree,” Beca gave a lopsided smirk. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just in the neighborhood.” She awkwardly stumbled, cursing herself. She was Aubrey Posen- she didn’t trip over her words. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, I-“  _That_ _’_ _s exactly what she meant to do._

“Oh, this isn’t a date.”

“It’s not?”

Aubrey and the boy spoke at the same time, meeting stares. His tone was defeated, his stance sinking into the booth that was torn- exposing white fluff through red velvet. The blonde tried to bite back her excitement. Tried to contain herself as the girl in front of her ran her fingertips over the glass mug.

“Sorry, Pauly.” Beca seemed sincere in her words as she leaned forward. “There is nothing against you, really, you’re a nice guy.”

“But?” he prompted.

“But watching Aubrey walk over here with that jealous look on her face made me realize how irrefutably gay I am.” She raked her deep blue stare over the woman in front of her, almost reducing her to a puddle on the floor. It was a daring move. Bold and lustful.

“Right,” He sounded out, scooting towards the end of the booth. Aubrey took a slight step to the right, letting him stand himself. He was taller than she expected, smelling strictly of the blood that he had drawn against the palm of his hand. He was nervous, had been nervous. “See you at work, then?”

“Sure thing.” Beca swallowed back her reserves. She had averted her stare at this point.  

“Aubrey.” Paul nodded at her, pulling his body towards the front of the shop until the little bell rung above the door. It left an empty spot on the other side of the table. Aubrey hadn’t expected Beca to do that- to push her current endeavor to the side just to give Aubrey the attention she didn’t’ know she craved.  

“Was your date really that bad?” Aubrey cocked a brow.

“It  _wasn_ _’_ _t_ a date.” Beca corrected, lifting her chin towards the empty seat across from her.

“Yeah, and if I take that seat what would that be?” She asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

“Whatever you want it to be, Bree.”  


	10. Birthday Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchsen prompt - Aubrey is a soldier deployed overseas and Beca is her longtime girlfriend with a promise ring. Both haven't seen each other in months and have only communicated through letters. After heading home from a stressful day of work and what seemed to be another birthday without her girlfriend, Beca gets the surprise of her life when Aubrey is there.

**Beca had a**  nervous habit, but it wasn’t noticeable. She would twirl the simple gold ring on her finger around until her skin stung. Still, it comforted her; to feel the cool metal and run her touch over the inscription along the inside of the band. Never the one to draw attention to herself while quelling her worries.

The air in her office was sticky; a large window unit taking in the heat from an Atlanta summer and trying to cement it into something more. It weighed heavily in the air, small beads of sweat collecting against her chest with each passing second.

Her eyes were burning, wet. She couldn’t tell if it had to do with the unblinking concentration on the mixing program opened in front of her. Her headphones were around her neck, the leather scolding against moist skin. Or everything to do with the looming thought of going home.

The office was empty, glass windows stretching from floor to ceiling, allowing the young producer to stare out at desolate cubicles. There was an artificial blue fish tank light casting against darkness. Her own lights dimmed and closed off enough to calm her nerves.

The clock read twelve, both hands resting on darkened numbers. Beca pulling her headphones from her neck before easing her fingers against sweaty hair. Beca gathered her things; picking up the one birthday balloon and pack of flowers that the office had pooled together to give her. A nice gesture. One that didn’t soothe her sorrows, but nice nonetheless.

She drove home in silence, the air making her skin tight as sweat cooled almost instantly. Beca didn’t bother flicking on any music, her stare fleeting as the balloon bobbed up and down in the back seat. The house just as dark s the studio that she left behind.

“I’m home,” She called out, voice echoing against the foyer. It was weak, the woman set her keys and the weighted balloon down on the table. The bouquet of roses in her hand as she walked towards the kitchen. Cooper, the dutiful animal usually at her feet, was nowhere to be seen or heard.

She let out a whistle, again not getting a response as she shook her head and grasped a vase from the lower shelf. She flicked on the faucet and filled the crystal, not bothering to cut the stems at a diagonal.

Beca rolled the gold band against her finger once more, letting out a deep sigh as she pulled her shoulders back. “Coop!”

Again nothing. Worry pricked at the back of her throat as she slid her heels off, leaving them in a pile right in front of the dishwasher. Her feet were cool against the established tile, eyes blinking against each light she flicked on.

“Where the hell are you?” Beca murmured to herself, climbing the carpeted stairs. She stripped off her blazer as she hunted for the husky- a large dog that was completely hard to miss. His fur would cling to every aspect of black and white clothing she owned. It collected in the corners of hardwood floors.

She didn’t’ let the dog up on the bed, or she wasn’t supposed to. Aubrey had been gone for months, leaving a cold and empty spot that needed to be filled. She would curl up to the usually hyper dog, and he let her. Maybe Cooper was there, pooled at the bottom of the comforter.

Beca pressed an aching shoulder against the bedroom door. Her focus on her feet as she flicked the light on. It stung her eyes and created a strong shadow across her features. She wrinkled her nose- the scent of tobacco and vanilla coating her throat. It was Aubrey’s signature scent. The one that had a way of melting her into comfort. She swore it had worn out by now.

Heat would rise to her cheeks each time she thought about how she held an article of clothing that was on Aubrey’s side of the closet. The odor would eventually be engulfed by her own and she would cradle a sweater close for another week. Now it was dominating, controlling all of her senses.

She waited motionless by the door, fingers still pressing against the light switch as she refused to let up on the pressure. Her breath twitched, all color draining from her face- lips parting from cold. She let her free hand press against them, stifling the sob that pulled at the back of her throat.

Aubrey was running her fingers through Cooper’s hair, the dog tongue happily lulling to the side as he turned over on his back. She was in uniform- Olive green pants backed with a black V-neck. Her jacket was strung against the bench at the end of the bed.

The woman was quick to Beca’s side, worried that if she didn’t hold her up, she would sink the floor. Her arms snaked easily around the DJ, pulling her close and whispering calming words in her ear. A deployment that had ended early, and a surprise that happened to fall on Beca’s 27th birthday.

“You’re here.” She whispered huskily, pulling her cold nose against Aubrey’s neck as the two of them kneeled, Aubrey, giving up on supporting her weight. “Oh my god, you’re here.”

She couldn’t stop repeating her words, fingers clenched against the eased fabric. Tears were soaking into the garment, nose running as she pressed herself even closer to Aubrey. She couldn’t believe she was so close; not over a shuttered screen, or a poor reception.

“Happy Birthday, Bec’s” Aubrey squeezed her close “Happy birthday.”


	11. Finely Written

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt(Mitchsen): Aubrey finds an old worn journal and deciding to return it to the owner, she reads the journal in hopes to find contact information. But as she continues to read through the journal, Aubrey's heart breaks of what she reads. Beca writes all her deepest thoughts in a journal after a horrible accident in the past and while her close friend, Emily, is there for her. Beca feels more comfortable writing her thoughts than speaking them.

_April 20, 2018_

_Emily keeps trying to get me to eat… not the little stuff either, you know? She thinks that bringing me to some huge restaurant with food more expensive than my college tuition will help. But it doesn’t. Not really. She stares at me with her big puppy dog eyes when I just pick through a salad._

_She doesn’t know that I still go back to that place… the diner. I eat there. Not the same order though- because god, if I could stomach something like that anymore I would. But I can’t. I can’t eat the same plate of fries and burger because it doesn’t taste like it should. It tastes metallic and wrong, and… and like that day._

_Either way, I know Em means well. She’s been by my side through all of this. Just trying to get me to open up about it all. But somehow, it’s just easier to write it all down._

The blonde’s fingers ran across the stinted pages, her back pressed heavily against the blue-clad park bench. Her full attention on the leather-bound journal that rested in her grasp. She hated to pry, she hated to go into other people’s business, but something about the curve of the writing, and the waterlogged stains that distorted the blue ink.

Aubrey had every intention of searching for a name, or an address, or anything that would lead her to actually returning the journal. But instead, she had flashed her attention across one of the pages. What she read was vague, and unexplained- stirring up a pain of needing to know more. Of connecting to the author of the book.

She let out a long sigh, toying with the corner of the page as she pulled her bottom lip into her teeth. She glared at it, finally letting her resolve fall as she flipped the page, shaking her head at her own actions- but ignoring it for the overwhelming curiosity.

_April 21, 2018_

_I talked to John today. He said that he wasn’t going to come back anytime soon. I don’t really blame him though. It took me a few weeks to even go back to Conrad’s. But I did. I bit the bullet so to speak and now it’s kind of comforting. You know… when all the police tape is taken down and the blood is off the floor it’s not really so- it’s not so bad anymore._

_Alice needs someone there with her. Not to hold her hand, or to tell her it’s okay because we got all of that before. We got the whole nine yards the second the city wanted to cover everything up. But it’s different now. She wants things to go back to normal and she told me that I was normal. So I suppose. I suppose that I’m going to keep going back. And I’m going to keep ordering the same cup of coffee and waffles every morning until she feels better. Because that makes me feel._

_Not better. But I feel something._

Conrad’s. It was a quaint little diner on the edge of 5th and Main. The place had everything from the checkered white and black floors to a pie turner. The neon OPEN sign was always lit up with it’s blue and red staggered colors. The colors that morphed into violet in the pouring rain as it reflected off the sidewalk.

About a month ago it was all over the news. Not for its great homestyle fries, or it’s homey atmosphere- but for the shooting. A lone man walking into such an innocent place to what? Grab a few hundred dollars in cash and be on his way. It quieted the town. A deep silence that was unmistakable.

Two people died that day. The owner who tried to stick up for his patrons and a child caught in the crossfire. More were injured, and the man had run before anyone could get their hands on him- but it was forgotten in history now. A statistic that was added to the robberies of San Francisco.

_April 22, 2018_

_I talked to Doctor Mallie today. Well, I guess talked to isn’t really the best word. She had scheduled the appointment and I showed up- only after Emily had put sticky notes all over the fridge like I wouldn’t remember. But I would never admit that I hadn’t. And that it helped._

_She said that I looked good and healthy. Not like I did a few months ago._

_The bullet- it raised to the surface so now It’s right by my ribs. I can see it… I can physically feel it against my ribs and run my fingers over the little tiny object that almost ended my life. That almost cut it short just because I wanted to have lunch._

_Mallie told me that we could remove it. It would be a short surgery that she could do in her sleep. (I don’t know if that was supposed to be comforting or not, but I’d rather her be awake to operate). But I’m not sure if I even want to take it out._

_Ask anyone and they’ll think that I’m crazy for wanting to keep a bullet inside my chest. But if you ask me, I think it’s a good reminder of why I’m still here._

Aubrey had pulled herself up from the bench at this point. The sun making it easier to read once she was away from that dark oak tree. She didn’t exactly know where her feet were carrying her but she knew she couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t’ waste the afternoon in a park reading something that wasn’t hers to acknowledge.

She kept her head down and her eyebrows knit together as she walked on. Trying to be careful not to bump shoulders with any people she passed on the sidewalk- but it was hard, it was complicated and she was lost in her own thoughts combined with a mix of guilt and yearning.

_April 23, 2018_

_I had a panic attack in the middle of the bank today. It was stupid, I was being stupid. They have a security guard by the door and metal detectors right beyond him- but still, when a man dressed in mostly black reached for his damn iPhone, I felt my heart in my throat._

_The teller probably thought I was losing it myself. I froze up, you know? Like I could only hear my heart rate in my ears and feel sweat collect against every inch of exposed skin. I was just making a deposit, but I looked like I was having a breakdown over it._

_I had held my breath until he left the lobby. I could finally calm down enough to take my receipt and leave. But damn, did I spook her._

The tall blonde had closed the book, it’s heavyweight tucked under her arm as a dark purple light cascaded against her features. A dark shadow made her look sadder than she was, the maroon logo that read  _Conrad’s_ was freshly painted on a new pane of glass- the prior having shattered in the robbery.

It was mostly empty, an older woman running a washcloth over a crumbles counter. A man lounging in the back booth with a paper covering his features. He felt around the table in front of him for his mug blindly. Not bothering to lower his reading material.

Then there was her. The woman who sat at the counter with her shoulders halfway slumped and a slacked smile on her face as she shared conversation with who Aubrey assumed was the owner- the woman scaping the crumbs into her palm.

The stranger was tiny for her age, dark hair flowing over clean-cut features and a simple black t-shirt that hugged her sides. She held a fork in her grasp as she stared at the food in front of her, pointing it at the woman as she smirked at something- saying words that the blonde obviously couldn’t’ hear.

Without a second thought, she pushed through the door, the little bell above it making a noise that cut through the serene remembrance of a time forgotten. It was cooler in here than it was outside, instantly stirring up a chill deep within her.

After a stint of silence- midnight eyes found deep Irish ones. They were known and filled with undeniable pain, but they never left hers. Not as she walked up to the girl, not as she slid into the bar stool and slid the leather-bound book towards the waiting brunette, not even when those very eyes filled with confusion, but not hurt.

“Coffee, ma’am?” The woman behind the counter asked, raising her eyebrows up.

“Please,” Aubrey nodded, running her slowly trembling hands through her blonde hair.

She nodded and vanished to the back, leaving both women in an uncomfortable silence as the stranger put her fork against the edge of the plate. She turned slightly, placing her other hand on the cover of the book as she drew in a careful breath.

“You uh,” Aubrey finally spoke “You should be mad. But I thought you would want this back. So…so I read it, and I figured that you would be back here at some point. I just didn’t know now.”

“It’s okay,” She finally spoke up after a few long moments of labored quiet.

“It’s okay?” Aubrey quirked a brow, staring at the woman in question. “I invaded your privacy, I-“

“You got it back to me,” She chuckled, raising her own cup of coffee to her lips as she gulped down whatever was left, Aubrey gawking at the slack nature of it all. She had fully expected to hear an earful, to get an angry stare, and someone storming off at the invasion of privacy- but instead? Instead, she got this. “You can stop holding your breath now.”

Aubrey was confused, the burning in her chest signifying that she had in fact, not taken a breath in a very long time. She pushed it past her lungs and shook her head with a smile, the tension leaving her stance.

“I’m Beca, by the way.” She said, sticking out her hand to the older girl, a smile on her lips.

“Aubrey,” The blonde took her hand, shaking it with compassion.

“Nice to meet you, Aubrey” She lifted her chin slightly. “Want to see a cool scar?”     


	12. Drunken Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Aubrey as a doctor and her fiancé Beca?

**“That’s not your**  job,” Aubrey spoke briskly, the dark metal chart was pushed against her jacketed side- the white collared edge not doing much to curb the chill that moved through the fabric. She ignored it- knowing that her mild discomfort was undermined by her thick rage. “You know what your job is, Smith? It’s to make your resident happy. Okay? And who am I?”

Her voice was getting louder with each second. The blonde intern shaking in her words as she cowered in the corner next to yet another crash cart. Jessica’s cheeks were red with embarrassment as she spoke up. “You are my resident.”

“That’s right,” The taller blonde nodded “I’m your resident and if you can’t insert a chest tube in a patient with a simple G.S.W to the abdomen than we have a problem.”

Jessica swallowed thickly as she hung her head like an animal caught with its little paws in a trap. She had her back against the wall behind her, messing with the light blue hem of her scrubs. They were wicked with blood to the point it almost looked black in some spots- inky and undistinguished.

“Did I fail you?” Aubrey asked, less of an edge to her words. “Huh?”

“No,” Jessica finally admitted “I just- I’m distracted is all. And I know, I know, I shouldn’t’ be distracted. The patient is supposed to be my main focus. He was all that should have existed in there- but he wasn’t, oh god, he wasn’t and he almost coded!”

“You can’t block everything out, Jess,” Aubrey spoke tenderly, taking a step forward so she could speak more clearly to the young intern who was shaking out of her boots. It was such a close call that the woman had lost all color to her features- blood rising to her cheeks in a scarlet mess. “When you’re treating a patient, they are strangers. You need to focus on learning about them. On learning what makes them tick, and what you need to check for. You study them until they’re no longer strangers and they are the only thing that matters- but you need a driving factor.”

“A driving factor?” she sniffed, rubbing the back of her palm against her cheek as stormy eyes flashed up to Aubrey’s. “Like keeping the patient alive?”

“That is 95% of the fight, Doctor Smith.” Aubrey stated matter-of-factly “The other 5% is why you’re there in the first place. Why you want to save lives… You can save me the tragic backstory of why you got into medicine. But you can’t save yourself until you know that reason.”

She gulped once more, running a hand through her hair as she let out a choked sob. Nodding against the emotions that flooded her- those that she couldn’t shove down completely. “Pull yourself together, alright?”

Jessica nodded, clenching her eyes shut as Aubrey rolled her shoulders back, taking in the dark hallway that was situated so close to the emergency room. There was a large set of automatic doors that silenced all outgoing noise- it was quiet and calm except for Jessica’s soft whimpers- ones that Aubrey genuinely wanted to sooth, but never got the chance to.

“Why are you here?” she panted, finally breathing in at a normal weight. “I thought you had the night off.”

“I never have the night off,” Aubrey pointed out, leaning against the opposite wall as she stared out at the emergency room. They were bathed in silence. “You know, for someone who is weeks away from marrying a resident here- my fiancé is so fucking stupid.”

The younger woman knit her eyebrows together as her superior spoke. Doctor Aubrey Posen was never one to show off her home life. The only reason Jessica knew anything about the woman’s fiancé was from a few months back when the girl drunkenly got wheeled into the emergency room with a fractured arm. The older physician had kept it hushed aside from a few nurses. But something told Jess that that would not be her last time seeing Beca.

“What happened?” She asked cautiously.

“A bar fight,” Aubrey pushed herself from the wall, shoving her hands in her pockets. Again, not one to share much about her personal life. Jessica needed it tonight though, so close to losing her first patient from a simple human error that could have been solved with a little common sense. She needed a distraction; she needed to break some bones. “How do you feel about learning how to reset a nose?”

 **Beca drew in** a sharp breath, fingers tightening around the wax paper that coated the exam table. It crinkled under her weight- cheeks wet with tears she couldn’t object to. The young intern promised her that it came with the territory, and it definitely didn’t’ make her weak. Still, while Aubrey pulled a pair of latex over her fingers, her fiancé couldn’t help but grimace.

It was just the two of them now, Beca’s mouth dry like sandpaper as she struggled to only breathe through her mouth- almost panting as Aubrey lifted the leather coated stool so she was eye level with a midnight blue stare.

“This was not smart,” Aubrey spoke, taking a long cotton swab as she pressed the white edge along the gash that was settled near the bridge of the brunette’s nose. She winced, clenching her purpled eyes together.

“I was defending your honor,” Beca grumbled. “He should learn to take a hint.”

“Something tells me guys like that will never learn.” Aubrey instinctively ran her thumb over the red blotches on the woman’s cheek. It was soothing, the smaller girl leaning into her touch with a long sigh- through the mouth. She sounded like she was scuba diving, grimacing at the amused expression the blonde kept on her features. “This is going to sting a little.”

“What’s going t- OUCH!” She hissed as the doctor placed a mix of rubbing alcohol and peroxide on the different cuts that littered her nose before placing the metal split around the damaged area. “Mother of God, Aubrey.”  

“Oh, did that hurt?” She teased, all the while rubbing little circles on the woman’s back to soothe her. Even if it was incredibly stupid to walk up to a man twice her size and four times her stature. She was so small compared to him but still got one good hit in before he fought back- inebriated and smelling so thickly of bourbon.

“Yes,” She spoke softly “It hurt my pride too. You know, I could’ve taken that guy if you hadn’t have pulled me off of him like that.”

Aubrey chuckled, pushing her feet into the linoleum floor, pushing her chair back to the counter. Her arm reached behind her blindly as she grasped the vanity mirror that they kept around for casts and patents like Beca. “If I hadn’t pulled you off of him, you would be in here with more than just a broken nose.”

Before her fiancé could object she held up the mirror, those dark eyes widening as she caught a glimpse of her reflection. There purple bruise stretching over her cheeks and under her eyes like she hadn’t slept in months. The bulk of the damage to was to her actual nose though- it was clearly snapped and rebroken, blood collecting under her nose in a black liquid.

“Oh my god,” She said with a gasp, pulling a mirror into one hand as the other shifted to hovering right above the wound. “Oh my god, this is the worst lesson in karma. This is so bad.”

Aubrey shook her head, placing her hands on her knees as she watched the woman squirm under her reflection. “You’re still going to marry me right?” She asked, blinking rapidly. “Because you’re hot. You’re my hot fiancé that will occasionally have sex with me even when I look like this?”

“Of course,” Aubrey chuckled, kissing the woman on her forehead so not to aggravate the injuries further. “Just like me fix your nose first.”

“Ugh,” Beca huffed, flopping back down on the wax paper, Aubrey staring up at the ceiling “OW!”


	13. Hot Headed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you do Mitchsen as superhero's?

**Beca** **’** **s back slammed** against the wall with a hollow thud, her breath quick to find residence in her lungs as she jutted her chin out to shield the shock that moved through her. Maybe it was more than shock- an edge of desperation for the woman’s touch being replaced by pinned lust.

“God,” The brunette purred, voice rough “You are such a hot head, you know that, right?”

The guttural growl that pushed past the blonde’s lips made the woman question for just a moment.  _Had she really pissed Aubrey off?_   I mean, of course, she teased and berated but never had she once really stirred the girl to this level of anger.

Aubrey’s fingers were wrapped around the fabric of Beca’s shirt, tugging at the spandex and ripping at the material. The same midnight suit that she always dawned had become unbearably sticky, the brick tearing into her spine.

The older woman raised her hand up, regular earthy eyes flaring up in a deep scarlet hue- one that was alluring and strange. It pulled Beca in, even with her fingertips ignited in a mix of blue and red flames. She lifted her own chin, avoiding the residual heat.

“Okay, let’s think about this for a second-Oh!” Beca struggled to clear her mind as she felt Aubrey place one knee firm between hers. The pressure was sweltering. “ _Bree_ ”  

“You know,” She spoke with a deep velvety tone “It would be so easy to end you right now.”

“But you don’t want to do that, right?” Beca laughed nervously, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead from the flame. It lit up half of the abandoned room that they had crashed into.

The area wasn’t completely dark- the moonlight from the window was enough to shade their features in a palpable tone. The two of them were miles away from anyone else, creeping against rooftops and pushing through the thick wood in order to get some privacy. This, however, was a complete accident, Beca having shoved her shoulder into Aubrey’s midsection before catapulting both of them into the top floor of this old cannery.

Sure, she could wiggle out of the woman’s grasp, could push past the stinging scrapes created so easily against her skin and through her suit. But she loved to tease the blonde. Loved to push her buttons even if this time, she had pushed too far.

“Come on, Aub’s” She teased a certain brink of fear in her voice. “If you kill me now, we can’t have sex later.”

Aubrey’s hand tightened against her collar once more as she lifted her from the brick, effectively slamming her back down and pushing more than enough breath from her lungs. “Alright, not one for the nicknames tonight.”

“You are such an  _invalid_ , Rebeca Mitchell” Aubrey finally spoke.

“I’m an invalid?” She scoffed loudly, forgetting her attempt to catch her life. “You stole 15 million worth of jewels from the Edgeworth Museum. And I’m the invalid?”

The style of a smirk moved passed Aubrey’s lips. She was proud of herself for that one, even if Beca the almighty hero of Edgeworth was scolding her. The brunette was a hero, it was her job to be above everyone else. But Aubrey? Aubrey was content with being herself; shifty and below it all.

The flame against her palm raised to a certain degree, making Beca swallow roughly, remembering her predicament. “It’s hot.”

“Oh, I know it is.” Aubrey trembled with her words “You realize how easy it would be for me to rip your heart out right now?”

“Sweetie, it’s a little frozen, but you can try your hardest.”

Aubrey  _was_ a hothead. She lost her temper at the littlest of things, despite being so meticulous about everything. Her abilities matched her mannerisms with such innate accuracy. Beca’s not too far away from her cold personality and brooding lifestyle. No one would guess that the little DJ dawned that cerulean cape.

She had stumbled upon the abilities on accident, halfway through a shower a few months ago when the very stream that cascaded across her skin hardened into small droplets of ice. She nearly froze to death in her small half-bath before she had enough sense to stop gawking and flick off the stream of water.

“Aubrey, please.” She tried a different tactic, one she never had before. Begging was her least favorite thing to do. It always had been- but that was usually when she was taking a few hits to the face and the stomach. Not a bed of fire-filled nails ready to push past her flesh and wrap around her most vital organ. “I’m sorry, alright?”

“You are?” She laughed, it was light and airy. “You’re actually sorry?”

“For crashing into you, yes.”

“And the other thing?” Aubrey cocked her head to the side.

“The other-“Beca leaned her head back against the wall. “Jesus Christ, Aubrey. We’re not a couple. You can’t possibly get mad over  _this_.”

“You went on a date.” She pouted, the flames radiating from her fingers dulling. The blonde knew that she was being petty, Beca owed her nothing. Not now, and not ever. The little hero was something of great nuisance to her. Something that ate away and tore at her humanity.

Beca blew out a sharp breath. “I like you, Bree” She spoke, “But you’re evil, and I’m good,”

“Oh, the classic troupe,” Aubrey laughed, pulling away completely. She had turned off the theatrics, not being able to hold her powers at a stalemate for that long, Beca supposed. “ _oh Aubrey, I can_ _’_ _t possibly break my sacrament to the good of the people. No, I certainly cannot._ _”_

Beca barked out a laugh at the over-exaggerated southern accent the woman put on. Shoving her hands into the sweatshirt that covered her suit. A little bit of red material was peeking out from the collar, but the blonde didn’t take much notice of it.

“Shut up,” Beca shoved the woman’s shoulder lightly. “I’m not kidding.”

Aubrey’s face fell slightly, shaking her head as she stared at the small woman in front of her. “I know.”


	14. Speedway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dude, someone asked you this on Ao3, but you know that doctor oneshots you write about Aubrey and Beca? Can you do one where Beca gets caught in the hospital wheel chair racing? something cute like that!

**Aubrey wanted to** let her body relax, the tension wasn’t good for her back. It was an undeniable pressure close to her spine that her chiropractor had warned her about more than once. But Aubrey didn’t’ buy into that stuff anyway- her father always said ‘those who can’t become a doctor become a scribe or a chiropractor. Even a foot doctor. Still, she found herself being scolded for spending too much time on her feet, Beca having spent silent nights working the knots out of her back.

She had just laid down, feeling a throbbing against her toes. Aubrey didn’t’ bother to pull off her sneakers. It would only take a moment for the black pager resting on her chest as she clenched her eyes shut. She didn’t have the energy to climb up to her top bunk. Instead, she was nestled in Chloe’s bed, it smelled like her; lavender and mint from whatever gum kick she was on.

Her stomach burned, and her skin carried the scent of antiseptic, tresses of blonde hair moved against her shoulders and the new scrubs that she had changed into. The blood-stained ones were piled into a red-rimmed trashcan a few feet away.

She was trying to sleep, really, she was. But a hospital was never a quiet place; there was always an incessant beeping from staggered monitors and codes called over a loudspeaker that made her heart pick up its pace- and more importantly, the echoed noise of her beeper vibrating against her chest.

It was a 911 for a nurse on the third floor. She hadn’t specified a patient or a location. Aubrey scrunched up her nose and sat up slow enough not to bang her head against the metal bar. A few stitches would be a perfect end to a day like this. She begrudgingly pulled herself forward and took the stairs up instead of the elevator, her pace reputable but not too rushed.

The third floor was the last stop for most of her patients, those that were there for long-term recovery, or illnesses that weren’t contagious, but wouldn’t allow them to leave. They were people that Aubrey knew by name, ones that she had Jessica monitoring easily.

Instead of a crash cart, she was greeted with an annoyed looking nurse. She had an expression of displeasure on her face that almost made the great Aubrey Posen cower. There were only two nurses up here in the first place- one missing entirely. Aubrey stood in front of the woman, shaking her pager slowly “You called?”

“Mm,” She hummed, hugging a chart closer to her chest. “I thought you would want to see this.”

“See what?”

Instead of objecting, she let the older nurse pull her into the middle desk area. It created a track that was lined with rooms, allowing the nurses easy viewing for the rest of the floor. The doctor didn’t resist, instead, she followed the woman’s stare. “3…2…1” It was a mouthed whisper. 

“Go! Go! Go!” Beca Mitchell rounded the corner with great speed, panting as sweat coated her exposed skin. She had taken off the blazer that was wrapped around her shoulders this morning when they left the house, her silk button-down had a few more buttons undone, feet digging into the wooden floor as she shifted the direction of the wheelchair to turn right at the corner- never losing speed.

“It seems your fiancé got a little distracted on her way to bring you lunch.” The nurse explained as Aubrey turned her body to follow the woman who turned yet another corner. “An _hour_  ago. Seems Emily is enjoying herself though.”

The surgeon let out a thick sigh as she squeezed the bridge of her nose, breathing in softly. The air still burned her lungs, but she was trying hard not to giggle. The nurse would have her head and then her badge. Aubrey made a blind reach, but somehow grasped the collar of Beca’s shirt, bringing her to a choking halt. She let out a grunt, fingers gripping the pads of the chair hard enough to halt it completely.

“uh oh,” Emily mumbled, her smile falling from her lips.

The girl’s hair was in a loose ponytail away from her pale features, her lips a darker red than they should be. She had resorted to wearing pajama’s over the months, a pair of plaid pants and a white t-shirt. Her hands threatened to push against the wheels, ready to run from wrath. But Beca held tight.

“Don’t even think about it, legacy. If I’m going down, you’re going down with me.” She panted, chest heaving under the fluorescent lights. A thick brine of sweat coated exposed skin. Beca put on her best smile and turned to her fiancé. “Hi, baby!”

The nurse let out a low whistle before she shook her head and walked away, leaving the three of them at the corner of the desk. Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows before she said anything.

“I was just bringing you some lunch,” She breathed in, bringing her fingers to her hairline “Then I ran into Emily here and thought I’d help her get some air, you know?”

Aubrey looked down at the girl who had a sheepish grin on her face. Her cheeks were red and but her expression genuine. She was sure it wasn’t easy for a girl her age to be trapped in a hospital room for months at a time. She needed some fun, but Aubrey wasn’t above scolding her fiancé for using hospital equipment for her own personal gain.

“Beca Xander Mitchell, you- both of you, could have gotten seriously hurt!”

“Xander?” Emily snickered.

“My parents wanted a boy,” She didn’t even spare a glance towards, instead she scanned Aubrey over in the scrubs. “Besides, what better place to get hurt than a hospital?”

The doctor rolled her eyes and placed her hand on the side of the counter. She couldn’t help but let this go- course, exhaustion was still pressing against every edge of her body. She wished acutely that she was still downstairs in bed instead of scolding two girls about burning rubber in a hospital corridor. The one with the begging look and undeniable pout made  _this_ much harder than it should be.

“You know, I’m just thankful Piper didn’t’ call security on you two.” She relented, dropping her shoulders from their tense position. It wasn’t good for her back.

Another screech of sound pulled them from their conversation, the unmistakable noise of rubber on wooden floors. Aubrey could practically smell the stale edge in the air as another whoosh of color rounded the corner, suddenly skidding to a stop in front of the three.

Chloe fucking Beale had shed her lab coat, leaving her in a darkened blue set of scrubs. Russet hair fell into her face as she panted, trying desperately to catch her breath. Mister Sutter was holding his oxygen tank in his lap, a look of pure glee on the old mans face. “You can do better than that, Doctor Beale. You let a civilian beat us with a little girl!”

“Wha- hey!” Emily seemed offended. Chloe seemed like she needed a drink of water.

They both set a bad example for a woman she was set to marry, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.   


	15. What's Cookin' Good Lookin'?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchsen Prompt: “I’m trying to make macaroni but I’ve burnt 3 pans and set off the fire alarm and I heard the lady above us say you were a chef please help” AU - where Aubrey can't cook

**Beca didn’t’ want**  to open the door, she  _really_ didn’t’. Not with the way her body ached, and the taste of alcohol still stung on her lips. She hadn’t even gulped down half of her beer before there was a timid knock at her door. Too soft to be a late-night delivery boy with the veggie lover’s pizza she ordered.

And she smelt the burning pile of food before she even opened the door. The scent soaked through the hallway of their apartment building and made her wrinkle up her nose in some form of disgust. It brought her lungs back to her first week in culinary school. The way she had tried to melt chocolate chips into a fine sauce in the microwave instead of over a salted pot of boiling water.

So that’s why she opened the door. Because she was pretty sure the woman in the hallway was going to set off the fire alarms and the last thing she ever wanted was to be evacuated into the cold and snowy streets of New York in the dead of winter. She had barely let the snow melt from her jacket in the first place.

She looked disheveled, to say the least. Her hair was in a loose bun that allowed a few strands of straw hair to frame her face. There was an array of different stains against the purple fabric of her t-shirt, the color standing out against unripe eyes. She was out of breath and Beca couldn’t’ tell if she had walked far or if she had struggled against the pot of smoking food in her palm, being held with a holder that looked like it had little roosters on it. Endearing.

“Hi,” She panted “I’m so sorry to bother you. But the woman above us said that you were a chef and I have tried to make this pasta for three hours.”

Beca parted her lips and shifted to the side. She couldn’t’ say she wasn’t a chef, not with the way her unbuttoned coat that had an embroidered  _DeStefano’s_ on the right breast was left unbuttoned against a simple black shirt. The way the words  _Head Chef_ shown above that damned her even more. So Beca settled on the next best thing.

“That’s pasta?”

“I… Yes. Well, it’s supposed to be, you know? My boss is coming over in a few hours to discuss this stupid proposal and I said that I would cook dinner. But I can’t cook. Not in the slightest. Is there anyway can you help me salvage this?”

She looked at Beca with those eyes. The type that was past desperate and had gone straight into begging. She found it endearing, her neighbor clearly not a whizz in the kitchen, nor in the act of pretending that she was calm.

“Was it Kraft?”

“Mmhm”

“Oh, dear God.”

Beca widened her own eyes and stepped to the side to allow the woman into her apartment. It wasn’t much, barely decorated. She had been here for two and a half months and there were still boxes stacked against the hardwood floor. She had a single blanket over a leather couch and a television that was barely used. That was never a problem though, everything she needed was in the kitchen. The kitchen that had sold her on this place when she first got offered the job at the steak house in the center of the city.

“Your first mistake was making food from the same company who invented cheese in a can.” Beca closed the door behind them.

“Like you’ve never eaten craft Mac and Cheese?”

“Oh, I have, but like… when I was blackout drunk in college and only had access to a microwave. How big is this boss of yours? Is he sirloin level?”

Beca walked flicked the lights to the kitchen on. She never got tired of the way the granite bounced off the cherrywood cabinets. The way the flattop stove heated at the single flick of a nob. The way she admittedly never used this place as much as she wanted to. Not after spending her days in a bigger scale kitchen with ten cooks under her.

“He’s a lawyer, prosecution. The second best in the city.”  

“Oh wow, so I’ll take that as a yes?” Beca let out a small laugh as she grasped the pan carefully from the woman who stood at the edge of her kitchen. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, staring with heated cheeks down at the smoking lava rock. The chef placed the pan in the sink and turned on a cooling blast of water- quelling the heat. “And the first?”

“Me,” She lifted an eyebrow “Aubrey Posen, from Posen and Crawford.”

Beca made a little ‘O’ shape with her mouth. She hadn’t been here long, but both of those names sounded familiar to her. They didn’t have to call months ahead for reservations, and the man in charge would always choke on his ego the second they walked through the door. Now one of them, a spawn of one maybe, was standing in her kitchen with a fire hazard in a non-stick pot.

“Beca Mitchell, of… this apartment.” She shut the water off and reached for the nearest hand towel. “I’m not sure how much I have off hand. I could probably whip up some parmesan risotto if you’re willing to help out in the kitchen?”

“You could- I mean,” Aubrey stuttered, all but composed as she cupped the back of her neck “Yeah, yes. Anything you need.”  

“Good,” Beca gave her a half smile and started to pull the ingredients from the shelves and the fridge. Aubrey watched her work like clock: the rice, the chicken stock, a dry wine that both of them could down in a fail swoop. Everything was suddenly in front of them and looked way more appealing than boxed macaroni.

Beca filled the cleaned pot with a layer of chicken stock and set it on a burner to boil before pulling out a wooden cutting board and a sharpened blade. She pulled an onion onto the surface, passing off the knife to Aubrey who stared at it silently with a raised brow.

“Have you ever chopped anything before?”

“Peppers, once.”

“Okay, that’s a start.” She moved out of the way softly, Aubrey falling into place next to her as she gripped the knife, holding it over the middle of the layered vegetable. “The easiest part is cutting off the ends.”

Aubrey nodded and performed the task easily, Beca instructing her to dice it up as best she could while she blocked a slab of butter into even spaces. Aubrey’s tongue poked out of the side of her mouth as she focused and Beca found herself wondering if she did the exact same thing in the courtroom. She furrowed her brow too, staring at the onion with intent.

“It’s uh,” Beca looked up “when you dice, you’re supposed to bring the blade all the way down. Don’t be afraid to really get in there- can I show you?”

“Sure,” Aubrey said in a bit of a whisper.

It was cliché, all terribly cliché, but Beca slid in behind the woman, adjusting her touch on the blade and her stance against the counter. Her front was placed so evenly against Aubrey’s back. It was warm and dominating and she smelled so clearly of vanilla that it made Beca’s mind swirl. All the while she guided the lawyer, taking a small step back once she got the hang of it.

“This isn’t so bad,” Aubrey smiled to herself and Beca thought it was brilliant.

She was usually thrust into a kitchen with people who thought they should have her position. She would puff up her chest and bare her teeth like a wolf on the hunt. Show them who was in charge before they got the upper hand. People who had all the experience in the world but none of the leadership. Aubrey had a wonder to her that made Beca’s heart swell as she took the freshly diced onions and put them in the pan, letting them sizzle with apt heat.

“Right, so, if you ever tell anyone that I’m about to put rice in the microwave I’ll hunt you down myself,” Bec said, not looking up as she tore a slit into the top of the bag of uncle bens. She was a victim of heating up a pouch every once in a while and eating it with a kitchen spoon straight from the package.

“Cross my heart. You know, I’m not usually this bad in the kitchen? I get nervous.”

“You’re a hotshot lawyer. I can’t imagine you giving into nerves.”

“It’s different there.” Aubrey let out a soft breath as Beca set the timer and finally turned to the woman. They had a few minutes to kill while the pouch heated up. They stood against the counter and Beca wished she had grabbed a few glasses for that cooking wine. Maybe the alcohol would make her feel less fuzzy in a more ironic way. “The courtroom is like an expertly crafted game. You can’t say or do anything that’s damming. I would hate to fall on my own sword, but it just comes naturally to me. Kind of like how cooking comes naturally to you…”

Beca didn’t’ want to bring up the fact that when she worked at Medieval times when she was a teenager she almost literally fell onto her sword. Or the way that she had burns littering her arms where oil splashed, or she got too close to a grill. Because Aubrey had this sparkle in her eyes, one that Beca understood wholly.

“I get that,” Beca said softly. “You just seem so confident when you’re there.”

Aubrey raised a slight eyebrow. “I didn’t take you as someone who would watch a murder trial on daytime television.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Truthfully, she wasn’t one to do that at all, but she had flicked on the television for white noise the other week and had been enamored by the woman she saw in front of her. It took her a bit to notice with the smoke in the air and the way she had been wrapped up with cooking, but it was the same woman. The same person she found herself rooting for.

Aubrey’s emerald eyes flicked down to Beca’s lips and she prayed she wasn’t imagining it. The way her iris’s darkened tenfold. The way she leaned in slightly against the island and again, Beca was hit with that vanilla scent. It was so subtle and dizzying.

The tiny chef found herself leaning in, not far, but enough for Aubrey to give a timid smile and breath out. She could feel it against her cheek, crave that warmth even more as the two of them began to close the distance that could have been intensified by a magazine. A high school dance and a shop teacher with a god complex.

A sharp and cutting beep of the microwave jolted them back, Beca stumbling tactfully as she drew in a heaping of breath “The rice is-“

“Yeah, yup. Ricotta.”

“Risotto,” Beca snorted, shaking her head “Your boss is going to love it.”    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see, guys!


	16. Milk Bottles & Pink Dolphins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mitchsen, carnival maybe? Something super cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... Don't know what this is but I missed them an found this in my drafts.

**Ice cream dripped** against the edge of the girl’s palm, the creamy liquid pooling under the heat of a summer night. The minty color separating each time a new track ran against her elbow. She wasn’t the least bit bothered, not ever deterred by the way it created sticky grime against her.

Beca Mitchell felt her stomach lurch.

Something about kids being sticky, and entering the fairgrounds seemed like a given. There were grease coated fries and powered covered batter that was weaved into an intricate web. It was almost a given that hundreds of messy kids would show up to her booth- and each time, she would force through her disdain and place a leathered softball into the palm of the awaiting player.

The tin cans were rigged; weighted down with little magnets that didn’t’ exactly give away at the small toss from a child. The brunette knowing from the start that all she had to do was manage the tickets- wear the stupid little black t-shirt with the carnival’s logo on it, and make sure that she never had to take down the big prizes.

It was a simple job, one that let her travel up and down the coast. She had constant board and constant companionship, but she always found herself growing exhausted five hours into the night. The small Alabama town that they had settled in didn’t captivate her attention with the type of families they produced.

Her favorite stop so far was in North Carolina. It was a mix between the classic southern folks that yelled too loud at their kids and kept their money in little clips that were decorated with a Confederate flag and the conservative families that looked out of place at a traveling carnival. People who were uptight and wanted to let “loose” by trying their calculated hands at some games.

But in Alabama, it was straight up and simple.

These were people who would get in your face and scream at you the second the heat got too much, and the tin cans didn’t fall the way you wanted them to. The type of people that would offer up money to get the pink horse hanging above the booth because their kid  _only_ wants that one.

“This shit is rigged.” The man spoke, his voice gruff.

His daughter barely flinched. She had heard the language before, and Beca did nothing but lean further into the side of the booth, her hands shoved into her pockets as she lifted her eyebrows. “Sorry, sir?”

“I said, this shit is rigged. No way in hell these cans are that hard to hit.”

“Want to give it a shot then?”   ****

She didn’t’ give him a chance to respond, instead tossing him the leather pleated ball that was in her grasp. She was bored- she would charge him later depending on her anger, but right now she wanted to stir him up, even with the sweat that dripped down her back.

He stumbled but caught it, eyeing her under the baseball cap that covered up his balding hair. He was sunburned where his t-shirt cut off, an uneven tan that was attributed to long days spent in the vast fields here. She thought she saw corn on the way in, or maybe it was cotton. It all looked too green. Too rural.

“I want the dolphin.” The girl finally spoke up, her voice leaking in twang.

Beca couldn’t help but scoff audibly at that. Even if the bottles weren’t plagued with tricks, it would take a near-impossible shot to get anywhere close to the neon sea animal. He seemed to squint his eyes at that and shoot off the ball with an even hit. It got down the top two, something with a little less pull.

“Oh, good job” She smirked, reaching behind the counter as she pulled out a little clear bucket filled with fake spiders and other Knick Knacks. They were little games, a couple of sticker sheets, scented markers. Certainly nothing worth the time and energy. “Better luck next time.”

The man puffed up his chest, crossing his arms before nodding at his daughter to grab one. She quickly snatched up a little ring and shoved it in her pocket before the two of them stalked away. Beca smiled softly to herself before kneeling to pick up the fallen milk bottles.

“So how much for the dolphin, anyway?”

Beca rolled her eyes, breathing in the soupy air without even bothering to turn around as she placed the glass expertly. “Look, like I told your friend back there, you’ve got to knock down all the bottles in order to get it.”

She turned to face the voice: the woman who stood in the place of a want to be cowboy was far different, far more intriguing. Her smile was what Beca noticed first. It was easy going and simple- and then her hair, golden and framing her delicate features that held their curls even in the humid weather. A real southern bell with emerald eyes and damn… Beca Mitchell would take that stuffed dolphin off the hook and give in with little conviction.

“Oh, he’s not my friend.”

“Husband? Brother?” Beca lifted her eyebrows “Oh my god, is he both?”

The girl let out a laugh at that, nothing shy of a giggle. She was in the South now, and part of Beca resigned to the fact that maybe it wasn’t just a joke. Either way, she was eagerly awaiting an answer.

“A Jackass, I’m assuming.” She answered quickly, leaning onto the counter of the booth. She had an easy five-dollar bill under her grasp, one that was crinkled with wear. “I’d like three balls, please. Best ones you’ve got.”

Beca grinned and took the outstretched dollar, tucking it into her apron along with other tickets and stolen money. She produced the items in exchange and took a step back from the area of fire. Part of her felt a twinge of guilt for lying, for once, after this long edge of time.

She had never once felt any malice from the game. These were people that would show up at a fair to have some fun, but they knew they would be spending money too. If it wasn’t at her little booth, then it would be the next: a little sticky hand, a goldfish that wouldn’t live past three days, and even an mp3 player that had a few songs on it. All worth nothing but the thrill of saying you could knock down a few things or get the firefighter to the top of the burning building.

The beautiful stranger threw the first ball, and like Beca expected, nothing. The bottles wavered and she furrowed her brow over dark green eyes. It was endearing.

The second ball didn’t’ bode well, either. This time it knocked down one of the top milk jugs and it fell to the dirt floor with a slight clang- never shattering, but always making enough noise to satisfy the player.

The third ball hit the tent behind the formation, and Beca had the sudden urge to tell the girl that it was fine. That no one really hit the bottles, and even if they did, they wouldn’t fall over. The magnets were too strong.

“I totally just wasted your time,” she said.

“Oh no, a lot of people do,” Beca flushed at how the words sounded “I mean, not that you actually did. Because you didn’t’. It was a valiant effort, and you… you gave it your best shot.”

Her smile was radiant and well earned, those blue-green eyes of her lighting up like the Ferris Wheel that cast its neon glow against cars parked between spray-painted lines. Their tires were sunken in dirt, kicking up near the rims.

She leaned forward and squinted at the nametag that was pinned to a lanyard. There were different things traced onto the fabric by the more creative crew- glitter and simple little drawings. “Thank you, Beca.”

Beca thought it was unfair for the woman to know her name without giving hers, but she breathed in the sweet strawberry scent that she carried and considered it okay for now. Even though she wanted to close down the booth and walk the rest of the fairgrounds with this stranger.

Beca fumbled easily with the plastic bucket. “Anyway, you get to pick a prize.”

“Right,”

The woman scanned her eyes over the different little toys for a few moments before grabbing a purple scented marker. It was one of those artificial ones that reminded Beca of grade school, the kind that one kid that sat up front would always lick, staining their tongue violet. Beca pondered the choice, but not for long before she dug in her pocket and set a dollar bill down on the table.

“ah, it’s actually five dollars to-“

She uncapped the marker with her teeth, letting it pop open as Beca watched with patience. She scrawled something on the money, something the carnival worker couldn’t exactly see before standing up straight and sliding it across the table.

“This shit is  _so_ rigged.” She said, grinning ear to ear before stepping away from the little booth and vanishing into the crowd of people pushing to get to greasy snack food and dripping ice cream.

 _Call me sometime, Aubrey._    


End file.
